


A Careful Remedy

by moontear



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 06:24:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 53,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11098758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moontear/pseuds/moontear
Summary: When Sora threw himself from the third floor balcony of his bedroom on Christmas Eve, he had expected a quiet death. But Death has other plans for him, and it's up to Sora to gain some closure in the past before his four days run out.





	1. A Deal With Death

**Author's Note:**

> Another story that I am transferring over to AO3! Any chapter notes from henceforth are old ones. :) Thanks. 
> 
> One and only disclaimer time: 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Square Enix’s Kingdom Hearts, nor am I making any money off this fanfiction. Seiya is © S.G. Smythe, and San is © J.E. Jones and S.G. Smythe. To use these characters without permission is illegal and will be punished by law.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Square Enix's Kingdom Hearts, nor am I making any money off this fanfiction.

Love is the most blinding, crippling force that exists in our world. No one, even if they block themselves away and coat their hearts in ice, is exempt from it. At one point or another, we are all given over to the hands of love. It does with us as it pleases. It either makes us the happiest on earth, or it crushes us and tears our souls from us until we’re flat on the ground begging for mercy. Mercy. Please have mercy.

 

I thought that I was one of the fortunate ones. I thought that love nurtured my heart, made it grow, allowed it to breathe. For once, I wasn’t suffocated by life, by a partner. Love grabbed me from the depths of the water I was drowning in and brought me with the utmost care to the surface. When I broke free of it, when I breathed in, I knew that it was a new beginning. For once in my miserable life, I could _see_.

 

But love is cruel.

 

And the wind, as I fall from the balcony to the snow below, does not cradle me. It tugs at me, pulls me close, until I slam into the frozen ground. There is a bright light that I reach for, and then—

 

Nothing.

 

* * *

 

_“Sora… Oh, Sora…”_

Crying. Someone is crying.

 

My eyes flutter open, taking in my nearest surroundings. There’s nothing there but fog, so thick it’s nearly tangible. I can see nothing through it, and when I try to touch it, it hastens away from my fingertips. Past the elusive fog, I can hear that crying. Who’s crying for me? Who cares enough to cry for me? And sad—why are they sad?

 

I climb to my feet, only to stagger and fall back to my knees. I grit my teeth as pain sears up my legs, into my hips, suffusing me with it until I can hardly move. Jesus, what is this? Why can’t I do anything? I’m stuck here, I know it. I’m helpless to stop that person’s crying, and it’s driving me crazy. Not because I’m annoyed by it—no, no. I just… don’t want someone to cry for me.

 

“It’s not worth it!” I yell, and I find enough strength to lift my hands to touch them to the fog. Fortunately, it doesn’t retreat this time, instead smoothing itself into a glass-like surface. Roiling white mists part from it, and I peer in. Who’s there? Who’s so upset?

 

_Mother…_

She’s sitting in a pew, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders overcome by trembles. Desperate, I attempt to get a better look. There’s a pearly sheen over everything, like I’m having to look through a haze of smoke. The fog must not have left completely, and this frustrates me. I want to see my mom. She looks so miserable and in pain. I haven’t seen her for so long—five years?—and… finally getting to see her—but like this.

 

Who is cruel enough to show this to me?

 

“Mom,” I whisper, “I’m right here.”

 

Tears glisten on her wrist as they slide from it. More drip from her chin. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother cry. At least not since I was a kid. I’m twenty-six now, and the last time was… over two decades ago. I don’t even know what it was for then. Maybe my memory is just making this up as I search for a recollection, I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t matter. That was then, this is now.

 

“Mom,” I whisper again. “Mom, look at me.”

 

I close my eyes and lean my forehead against the glass. I pray that someone will hear me, hear my plea. There has to be _someone_ out there. I can’t be all alone in this fog, can I? I don’t want to be. I want to be beside Mom. I want to make her feel better. I want to stop that pointless crying. There’s no need to cry over _me_ , I’m right here. See, Mom? I’m right… here…

 

“Seiya, shh, shh…”

 

Dad?

 

I jerk my head up, only to discover that I’m not in the fog anymore. I’m standing right beside the pew my parents are seated in. Dad has his arm wrapped around Mom’s shoulders, and he pulls her head forward to rest on his chest. She clutches at his crisp, black button-up with a hand that is still trembling. They’re dressed so nice, but so somber. Black, all black. Mom hasn’t worn that gown since—when?

 

Struggling to recall, I cast my gaze around. Mom and Dad aren’t alone. There’s plenty of other people here, and if they’re not crying silently into tissue, they’re gazing somberly ahead. Somber. Somberness everywhere. Just like all of that clothing. I hate it, and I want it to stop. Good grief, what’s all this fuss about? Why’s everyone so upset?

 

I’m right here!

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dad shifting. He’s pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, and he offers it to Mom. She uses it to dab over her face, smoothing it of tears, but it probably still feels sticky and wet. I’ve always hated that about crying, so I never did it often. A kind smile spreading on my lips, I step forward to tell her this. She’ll laugh, she always laughed at my jokes, especially at times when she was down.

 

“Mom, I know it’s been, like, five years, but… don’t cry,” I murmur, reaching forward to take her hand. “I’m right here.”

 

Something is wrong. Something is incredibly, deeply, terrifyingly wrong.

 

I can’t touch her. My fingers slide through hers, and then deeper, through the pew. I jerk my hand back with a gasp, staring at it, turning it over. Nothing. It looks fine. It _is_ fine. But grasping for her hand again yields the same results as before—I disappear right through her.

 

I glance up to see if she’s noticed. She hasn’t, as if I’m not even there. She only spreads Dad’s handkerchief out to trace her fingers over the patterns on its surface. Some patches of it are wet from her tears, and she touches those, too. A wistful smile touches the corners of her mouth but doesn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, Sora,” she whispers, but then her breath hitches, and she’s crying again. Dad holds her close.

 

What is going on?

 

What the hell is _going on_?

 

“I just can’t believe that he’d—he’d…” Mom begins, only to break off as a harsh sob escapes her throat. I stare at her, my eyes roaming over her face, and I try as hard as I can to make sense of that statement, but… nothing… only a dim—

 

_Frozen water stings against my cheek, but I hardly notice. My immediate concern is the warmth cradling the base of my skull, chasing away more of the cold that tries to linger there. I stare up at the sky, which is painted with stars and a few low hanging clouds. It was supposed to snow tonight, but it hasn’t yet. I wonder if it will. I wonder if I’ll be covered in snow by the time anyone notices my absence._

_Probably, I think. Probably._

The memory is harsh static in my ears, and I rub at them as they tingle. I shake my head. No, no, I don’t want to remember that. No! It’s too hard, too—wrong. Whatever it is, it hasn’t happened. I’m me. I’m here. I’m here, so why doesn’t anybody notice? Are they blind? Do they refuse to look at me? Does everyone hate me that much?

 

“Look at Riku. We should invite him to sit with us.”

 

“I don’t know—do you think he’d…?”

 

“Yeah, I think so. For today, let’s just try to get along.”

 

“You’re right, San… I’m tired of fighting…”

 

Riku?

 

I growl, whirling, searching for him. I find him sitting a few pews behind my parents, and I don’t know how I overlooked him earlier. He’s sitting there quietly, his head bowed like everybody else’s, his eyes closed. There aren’t any tears on his face, but then again, I’m not surprised. And anyway, he’d have to be freakin’ sobbing uncontrollably before I’d be even _slightly_ satisfied with him. Instead, the anger burns inside of me, fighting to the surface, and I’m not against letting it.

 

“What are you doing here?!” I scream, rage fueling the volume of my voice. “You have no right to be here! Get out! Get out, get out!”

 

Riku’s oblivious. Of course he is. He never paid attention to me while I was—while I was—

 

I swallow. While I was what?

 

I’m afraid to answer the question, even if only to myself. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to remember it. I don’t want to go back to that snow as it melts through my clothes and burns over my skin. No, no, that hasn’t happened. It can’t. It won’t. I won’t let it. Especially not so that Riku can sit here and look as if he’s only _trying_ to be sad. As if he’s just putting on a face for everyone involved.

 

“I hate you!” I yell, swinging my fist forward. It glides through him. I want to see his face whip to the side with the blow, I want to see the silver strands of his hair follow the motion. I want those sea-green eyes to blaze back at me. They remain closed, and he reaches up to scratch at his cheek, where a barely visible patch of dry skin is.

 

“Damn it,” I sob.

 

Something is rising within me, something hard and cold and unforgiving. The feeling starts in my stomach before it reaches my heart, pounding in time with it, swelling into panic. I clutch over it, dismayed to find my vision blurring. Oh, fuck. Why am I crying? Why am I bothering? He doesn’t deserve my tears. I haven’t cried since I was fifteen. And now, when it’s—it’s—when it’s all over with, when I don’t have to deal with him anymore, he’s here. He’s making me cry. I hate it.

 

I HATE IT.

 

I have to get away from him. Being near him is making it too hard to breathe.

 

Staggering away, away from him, away from my parents, away from the priest slowly making his way up the aisle, I head toward the front of this awful room. There’s a casket there, and it’s closed. What, was the death too gruesome? The body too mangled? Deep down, I already know the answer. I don’t want to, but I do. God, this is awful. Why am I here? Why am I letting this happen? Why can’t I _do anything_?

 

Smooth, unblemished wood, a brown so dark it’s almost black. I run my fingertips over it as lightly as possible, knowing that I can’t feel the glossiness and not caring.

 

This is mine, isn’t it?

 

This is why everyone is here. This is why, after five years, my parents have finally come to see me. This is why Riku, after his intense betrayal that he doesn’t even know I’m aware of, is boldly sitting here. This is why everyone is crying. This is why the priest is turning with the Good Book in his hands, a rosary dangling between his fingers. It’s because I’m dead.

 

Oh, God.

 

I’m dead, aren’t I?

 

“Hey, you’re not lookin’ too good. Sucks being dead, don’t it?”

 

I whirl around and hastily wipe at my tears so that I can see straight. There’s a redhead in front of me, his hair so spiky it resembles a porcupine. His eyes are a deep, glowing green, piercing straight into my soul. None of this concerns me—what does is the black garb he’s dressed in that hugs his slender frame and covers over his feet and a few good inches along the floor. In his hands he’s holding a sickle, but it’s a bit different than what I had always pictured it to look like. For one, it’s hot pink.

 

“What…?” I breathe, again wiping at my face. “Who are you?”

 

He waves one finger at me. “Take a wild guess. Go on.”

 

I sniffle. “Death?”

 

“Haha. So you’re smart. That’s good.” The man’s mouth stretches into a smirk that’s almost evil, but at the same time, his eyes are twinkling good-naturedly. I don’t know what to make of this. I think I need to sit down, so I do. Heedless of my dizziness, my visitor continues, “So what’s a smart boy like you wandering away from where you’re supposed to be, huh? You should be in limbo right now.”

 

“I’m—I don’t know how I got here,” I hear myself saying. I plant my face in my hands and bury my fingers in my hair. “I heard someone crying, so I came to look…”

 

“Ah. That’s interesting. You must have strong ties to those that are here.”

 

“My mother…” I whisper.

 

“Oh, _now_ I get it! You know that one of the most powerful bonds is the one between mother and child? Your mother must have been really sad if she could call you from the planes of limbo.”

 

Anger surfaces again, and I let my gaze carry the full heat of it. “Gee, I wonder why,” I say crisply. “After all, I’m _dead_.”

 

“Sheesh, sorry. Considering you killed yourself, I didn’t think you’d be this bitter about it.” Death scratches at his chin.

 

“No,” I whisper, getting to my feet.

 

“Uhm—I’d have to say yeah, yeah you did.” He pulls a slender black book from the inside of his robes and flips it open to the middle. “Shiozu Sora. Time of death, half past midnight, date of death, Christmas Eve, and finally—cause of death: leaps from balcony and kills self. See, the Book says it. It’s confirmed.”

 

“No, I mean—I’m not happy about this.” I get back to my feet, gesturing at all the sad faces. “I never thought this many people would care that I’m here! I wouldn’t have done this if—if I had known that I would hurt so many people! If I had known that so many people would miss me!”

 

Death tilts his head. “And that’s my problem how?”

 

I stare. “What do you mean?”

 

“Look, bud, you killed yourself. It’s done—it’s over with.” He holds out his hand after storing the Book away. “Come on, let’s go. I’ve gotta take you back to limbo. If the Big Guy hears about this, I’m gonna be on the skillet, got it?”

 

His hand is slender, gloved by black, and foreboding. I swallow as I eye it, not sure if I should take it or not. Back to limbo? That’s where that place of roiling fog was? It was so quiet there… so lonely… and kind of scary. I didn’t _want_ to go back there, and I tell the newcomer as much.

 

“Listen, you ain’t got a choice. It’s where you wait for judgment. Once judgment’s ready, you go up to the pearly gates, and then it’s decided where you’re going to spend the rest of your eternity.”

 

People are beginning to get up to pay their respects to my coffin. I move out of the way to avoid being walked through, uncomfortable with the feeling of being like a ghost here. Damn. How could I have been so fucking _stupid_? Killing myself. As if that would make all my problems go away. I half thought I’d be buried in the cold earth and that would be the end of it. Now I was here talking to Death, of all entities, about Judgment Day.

 

“The pearly gates?” I frown. “So I get to go to heaven?”

 

“Guess again, bucko.” Death shakes his head, his eyes almost sad. I hate the pity in them—I hate it when anyone pities me. “You’re Catholic, right? I mean, that’s why the priest is here, after all.”

 

I glance at Father Martsen. “Yeah, I’m Catholic.” Father Martsen is old, and the sagging wrinkles on his bony fingers and around his eyes tell anyone as much. He’s been around since the time I was a baby. He’s the one who baptized me.

 

“Well, then you should know what happens to those who kill themselves.”

 

Alarmed now, I return my attention to Death. The sadness in those eyes has intensified. “You mean I’m going to hell?”

 

“I’d have to say so, buddy.”

 

“Wait, what does my religion have to do with anything?”

 

“Well, you imprint yourself with whatever religion you believed in before your death. It’s too late to change it afterwards, and your afterlife is based on what you last associated yourself with. So since you’re Catholic, the terms of your afterlife are based around that.” Death shrugs as if it’s simple arithmetic. Two plus two equals four, Sora.

 

“But what if Catholicism isn’t the _real_ thing?” I ask, finding all of this a tad unfair. “What if it’s really Buddhism that’s the real deal? Or what if the Baptists were the ones that got it right?”

 

“Doesn’t matter.”

 

“Who does have it right, then?” Now I’m just curious despite the situation.

 

“Oh, now, I can’t go telling you _that_.”

 

“Okay, fine. A better question. I killed myself—I technically shouldn’t even be having a service provided by the Father.” I frown. My gaze drifts to the back of the room, where everyone is congregating to tell my parents how sorry they are. Mom can hardly look at anyone, she’s crying so hard. Dad’s doing the honors of shaking everyone’s hand, his nods solemn. Riku is with them, a sight I don’t care to see.

 

“I guess your parents probably lied to cover it up—too much eggnog, eh? I really can’t tell you, kid, I just have to deliver you back to limbo.” Death holds out his hand again. He sounds less patient than before. “We need to go, time’s a tickin’. I’ve got other people to attend to, ya know.”

 

“Death—”

 

“Eh, just call me Axel. I’m still not used to the whole ‘Death’ title.”

 

“Fine. Axel.”

 

Death nods in acknowledgement.

 

“What’s—going to happen to me if I don’t get to go to heaven?” I wet my lips, nervous at the prospect of what hell will offer me. I’ve always been taught that hell is not the best way to go out with a bang. The devil is cold, ruthless, and the epitome of evil. Sinners like me don’t get a bed of roses in the afterlife—we don’t get to sing with the angels.

 

Axel places a hand on my shoulder. It’s shocking, because I hadn’t expected it to actually solidify. I guess Death and I are on the same plane than the one the rest of this room is, so it doesn’t really matter. “Look, kid… I’m sorry. But I think you know the answer to that.”

 

An eternity in hell, flames licking at my body as I burn and burn and burn—

 

I swallow loud enough that it echoes in the sudden silence.

 

“Sora—either you come with me now, or you pay the price for not doing so.” Axel lifts his sickle—scythe?—and then lowers it. Rose petals scatter through the air as it makes contact with the ground again, and I raise my eyebrows at him. “Damn it,” he says. “I really need to replace this thing.”

 

“What do you mean?” I ask. “You say it like it hasn’t always been yours.”

 

“It hasn’t,” he admits. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck before shaking his head. “It belonged to the guy before me. He kind of worked some mumbo jumbo on this thing, and the results are its current state. I’m trying to petition to get a replacement, but so far no one’s seeing my side.”

 

“There’s been more than you since the dawn of time?” Wow, that’s kind of hard to wrap my mind around, and I’m grateful for the momentary distraction. I’m not exactly ready to hand myself over to the hands of Death just yet.

 

“Yeah, it’s a pretty high position, you see. And it takes a few thousand years to retire from. The last guy got tired of it earlier than usual, so he just kind of quit.”

 

“You can quit being death?”

 

Axel’s expression is borderline murderous. I’m instantly sorry for asking. “Not without paying a horrible, _horrible_ price,” Axel says, his tone menacing. It rakes claws of cold down my spine, and I shiver despite myself. Holy hell.

 

“Right…”

 

His extends his hand again, his expression unchanging.

 

“Wait!” I cry. “I’m seriously not ready to go on yet! What about Mom? And Dad? Hell, what about _Riku_?” The fact that he’s even _here_ has to mean _something,_ right? Even if it’s just for appearances, he’s still present at my viewing. “Axel, I wasn’t prepared for this. I want to do something. I want to change this.”

 

“They all do.” He’s raising his scythe.

 

I hold out my hand, but to stop him, not to take his proffered one. “I don’t know what to tell you to make you believe me!” God, my eyes are tearing up again, and Axel’s look isn’t even growing sympathetic anymore. Have I really ruined Death’s patience? Have I blown my chance at forgiveness? “I wouldn’t have ever, _ever_ killed myself if I thought that—that this would happen!”

 

Axel pauses.

 

Trying not to take too much hope in the relief that washes over me, I swallow and fight for the right words. I have a feeling that this is the only chance I’m going to get, and I have to take it _now_. “I swear to you. I’m telling the _truth_. Mom and Dad haven’t talked to me in years. I’m kind of estranged from them. And Riku—we’ve had problems in our relationship lately. I don’t even have many friends.” It’s hard to talk around the lump in my throat, but I press on. “I thought that everyone would be _happy_ with me out of their lives. I didn’t realize… I didn’t realize…” My voice trails off in a whisper. “I didn’t realize that it would make them so _sad…_ ”

 

My knees are turning to mush, so I sit down. I don’t think my legs can hold my weight any longer, anyway. It had taken a lot to get that out of me—that whole speech. God, I don’t know why it hurts so badly. Saying that… getting that off my chest—it’s taken a lot out of me, and now I’m weary from the sudden loss of that weight.

 

All of it is true, though. I _hadn’t_ thought so many people cared about me enough to come to my funeral. I thought I’d be buried in that cold, hard, unforgiving earth, with no one to really care about it. I’d been expecting it so much in the last few years of my life, why—I’d _resigned_ myself to it. My imminent death had almost been blissful.

 

But now… _now_ …

 

A sob scratches at my throat. “I didn’t know anyone still loved me.” The whisper is broken, and I don’t care. I don’t care if Death still wants to take me after this. Fine. I’ll suffer my punishment. It’s my sin. It’s no one’s fault but my own.

 

I should have believed in my family.

 

“Aw, kid,” Death suddenly says, “Get up. You look pathetic.”

 

I oblige, but only because I’ve got nothing better to do now that everything is out in the open.

 

Axel looks kind of embarrassed, and he’s not quite meeting my eyes. “I’m moved, ya know? I’ve only been at this job for two days, but that was a pretty powerful speech you had there. It’s touching.”

 

“Touching?” I repeat.

 

“Yeah. Hey, I’m not really allowed to do this, but—I think I’ll make an exception for you.” Axel taps his finger to his chin, tilting his head back as he closes his eyes in contemplation. “You want closure, I’m guessing?”

 

I nod. “Yeah….”

 

“Fine. Don’t tell anyone I’m doing this for you, okay? You have to keep it an _absolute secret_ unless you want me to cut this trip early.”

 

Hope blossoms in my heart. I’m not even sure why, considering I haven’t the faintest clue of what he’s talking about. “Er, sure.”

 

“Try to sound a little more grateful here!” Axel gestures. “You’re going back in time—four days. Got it? That’s enough time for you to clean up any mistakes you’ve made, clear the board, get in contact with long lost relatives, whatever. Once the four days are up, you’ll find yourself back in front of that balcony. You jump, I take you to the pearly gates, it’s over with. Comprende?”

 

I’m not so sure I comprehend, actually. “You’re giving me a second chance?”

 

“Yeah, but you still gotta die. This way I won’t get in so much trouble.” He holds out his hand, slower than the previous times. “The minute you clasp my hand, the countdown starts. I’ll probably check in every now and then to see how you’re doing. You accept? You have to uphold your end of the bargain, though, Sora—no funny business. No trying to back out of your preordained death before it can happen.”

 

I lick my lips. What if he’s lying to me? What if he’s just tricking me into taking his hand so that I can “move on”? There’s no way to tell, but I’m desperate enough for this opportunity that I don’t care. My hand slides into his, and we shake, and a rumble of thunder shakes its way through the background to add to the spark that ignites between our palms.

 

“Heh heh.”

 

Everything is growing dark. The pews are fading, swallowed by shadows, and my family and casket are going along with for the ride. Panic resurfaces. Have I been tricked? Was I right not to trust him?

 

Axel’s smirk is the last thing I see.

 

“Happy camping, kid. Good luck.”


	2. But I Love You, I Love You

The bedroom that I share with Riku is dark when I open my eyes. I jerk a little, unsure of what I had expected. Axel had told me that I’d be sent back in time four days. I suppose that it’s just weird waking up after such an ordeal and finding yourself on the other side of the bed that you share with your lover.

 

I sit up and swipe my hand over my forehead. There’s sweat gathering there. This in itself is odd—that really only happens whenever I am going through the motions of a particularly bad dream. And—what happened to me. That hadn’t been a bad dream, had it? I don’t _think_ so. I can still remember my parents in the pews, their faces wet with tears. Axel’s deal. That had all been very real—more real than any _dream_ could conjure up, that’s for sure.

 

Still. It’s hard to believe that I made a deal with Death. I mean, who dreams about stuff like that? Well, actually, that sort of thing would be more likely to pop up in a dream than real life.

 

I’m confused, and there aren’t any answers, and I’m seriously about to go batshit crazy unless someone appears to answer my questions.

 

Wait—Riku.

 

Glancing at the time reveals that it’s around five in the morning. Riku’s going to kill me, but go on: ask me if I care.

 

I roll over, shaking Riku’s shoulder as I do so. He stirs, but barely, and pulls a pillow over his head. He’s obviously determined to tune me out and go back to sleep. Not that I can blame him, but again: do I care?

 

Only by being as persistent as hell do I finally manage to get him to fling his pillow away from him, his eyes mutinous.

 

“ _What_?” His voice is still thick with sleep, but I’ll always admire how he still manages to make it sound like he’s ready to throttle me. Riku is skilled in the area of sounding angry no matter what phase of wakefulness that he’s in. “It’s like—” He looks around, presumably for the nightstand. “Fuck, Sora. _Four fifty-five._ ”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“In the _morning_.”

 

“Yeah, I just need to know—what day is it?”

 

Frustration crosses his features. He slams his head back on his pillow, huffing. Eyes narrowing at the ceiling, his brows furrow as he starts to consider. Finally, I’m provided with the date. “The twentieth, Sora. Now go back to sleep, God damn.”

 

I do lie back down, but not to sleep. My mind is too awake, my heart won’t stop pounding. I can hardly think straight. God, I wish that this _were_ a bad dream, but my gut’s telling me that it’s not. On the bright side of things (and is there really a bright side to all of this?), I’ve got four days to fix things. Four days to get my priorities in order and set things straight. That’s gotta mean something.

 

On the one hand, since I know that I’m going to die, anyway, I can just go ahead and get it over with. But on the other—that’s not what I’ve been sent back to do. Death—Axel—whatever he likes to be called by—has given me a mission. Four days. _Four days_.

 

That’s not a lot of time, when you get right down to it, but it’s all I have.

 

I get up, deciding not to waste another minute in bed. Five minutes are all I need to pull on the warmest, thickest clothing that I’ve got stored away in the closet. Normally I don’t bother with this stuff, since I work from home and don’t go out much. In fact, most of my winter clothing is from the previous year. I’ve received some things this year, but only because Riku says he’s disgusted with staring at year-old clothes, and it’s time for something new. Whatever, his money. I’m well over the time to get another growth spurt, but he doesn’t listen to me.

 

Nothing new there.

 

A sweater, a turtleneck beneath it, jeans, wool socks, and a pair of snow boots later, and I’m ready to go outside. Riku doesn’t wake again until I’m halfway across the room, and I turn as he sighs to find him sitting up. He’s got himself propped up on an elbow, and he’s squinting through the dark to make out my movement. The sun won’t be coming up for another hour or so.

 

“What are you doing, Sora?” he croaks.

 

“I’m going outside to enjoy the snow,” I reply.

 

Riku’s groan is loud, and he falls back on the bed, his next words a whisper, “You’re fucking crazy, Sora.”

 

I smile, even though it’s a little sad, and slip out the door.

 

* * *

 

It’s started to snow outside. I guess it began doing that while I was getting dressed, because when I first looked out the window, it was a clear morning. Regardless, now I’m just happy. I can’t remember the last time that I actually got _excited_ about snow, but there you go. It’s there, and I’m not dying in it, and I want to rejoice.

 

Why is it that we take advantage of so many things while we’re alive? You see the snow and you think, “Oh, God, there it is, snow, cold and wet and gross, get me out of here.” Unless you’re a tourist, because everyone knows tourists go absolutely ballistic when they set their sights on it. But I’m not exactly a tourist to this backyard, and I have to admit, it’s been a while since I’ve leaped head first into the white fluff.

 

Cold takes hold of me, frozen water brushing along my cheeks, nose, and forehead. On any other day, I might piss and groan and go back inside, but not today. Today I want to enjoy myself.

 

I flop over on my back. I’m glad that I piled on the warm clothes because I’m sure the snow is starting to sink into the outer layers. A quick snow angel later, and I’m content to stare up at the sky, my heart pumping energy through my veins, my eyes searching out the last of the night’s stars. I can remember the days when I was a kid and Riku would lounge with me, like this, just watching those glittering stars. What happened to that? Why can’t I get back what we used to have? Where has it all gone wrong?

 

Being depressed again is growing tiresome. I’m finished with my depression—so is, I’m sure, everyone else involved with me. But it’s so hard to ignore most days. Gathering inside of me, dragging me down deeper and deeper beneath the surface… Riku is the one who grabbed me and pushed me back up. He caught me in those warm, strong arms of his and made everything okay. Now, it seems, he’s slipping away from me, too.

 

I raise my mitten and wiggle my fingers inside of it.

 

Then I have an idea.

 

By the time I’m rolling a mound of snow along the yard, flurries are coming down harder. The weather forecast got today wrong. Clear skies are promised, but I know better. It’s going to snow and snow and snow until it lets off about noon-ish. That’s not going to be enough for blizzard weather; however, there _will_ be a few good inches of snow on the ground by evening tonight. Take that, Weather Channel. I have something on my side that you don’t—a glimpse into the future.

 

Building a snowman is more difficult than I recall. I puff for air, my lungs burning. White mist that reminds me of the fog in limbo swirls out from my mouth. Our bodies are so hot that steam naturally forms when we exhale in a chilly atmosphere. You’d think, with our bodies having such a high temperature, that we shouldn’t have to worry about ever getting cold. But then I guess that’s the point of nature—counterbalancing.

 

I don’t have to worry about being cold for very long. Making this snowman is warming me right up. The whole situation has really got my blood pumping, let me tell you. God, when’s the last time I bothered with this sort of thing? Had to be when I was five or six… ten at the latest… fuck if I know. I’ll ask Riku later, if he’s actually around to pay attention. The odds of that are against me. But Mom always taught me that it never hurts to try.

 

Twenty minutes breeze by. The snow is falling faster, thicker. I stand back to admire my snowman, and wonder what I’ve missed. Oh, right. The thing needs actual appendages to look realistic. Haha, guess I got carried away.

 

The sticks for its arms are easy to acquire; the rocks to form its mouth and eyes are even easier. Now all he needs is a nose and some clothes.

 

A line of pink is starting over the horizon. I pause for a moment to watch it, my fists on my hips. What a beautiful morning. Why can’t I appreciate more of these? Why am I never awake _to_ appreciate them? Probably because I’m normally up so late trying to complete a deadline that this is the time I’m going to bed. If I could change anything, I think, it would be this. Taking advantage of so, so many wonderful things that Mother Nature has to offer us.

 

There’s a line of mud and water following me into the kitchen. I rub at my nose and sniff. Cold’s still biting at my ears, my nose is runny, and my cheeks feel like the wind got a little too friendly with them. I feel great.

 

Where’s a carrot? Ah. 

 

I grab it, closing the fridge door, and pause when I see what I missed before—Riku is sitting at the kitchen table. He’s got the daily newspaper spread before him as he spoons up Cocoa Krispies, a line of milk on his lips. Steam is rising from the cup of coffee just within reach. A half-eaten bagel covered in cream begs me to make one of my own, but I refrain. I’ve got to finish up with Frosty before I can eat. New rule for the next four days—stuffing my face is not going to be my number one priority… even if my stomach is rumbling at the smell of that cream cheese and toasted bread.

 

My boyfriend looks up. Or rather down. His eyes are on my boots, and he drags his gaze slowly up my body before giving me a pointed stare and an arched eyebrow. When I smile innocently, he rolls his eyes and switches sections of the paper.

 

“You’re tracking in mud and snow, Sora,” he says around a mouthful of bagel. “I hope you plan on cleaning that up.”

 

“The mop has my name on it.” I step towards the table, a lump in my throat. I’m mad at Riku—well, actually, that would be an understatement. All the fury of hell can’t compare to the rage boiling inside of my heart. But despite that—despite what I know he’s done that he doesn’t know I know about—I still love him. He’s my Riku. I may not be his Sora anymore, but… he’s still my saving grace. My Riku.

 

Maybe even, as corny as this is gonna sound, my angel.

 

“What is it, Sora? You look like you want to say something.” Riku doesn’t raise his gaze from the funnies.

 

My hands slide over his cheeks, pushing that long silver hair behind his ears. His eyes linger over the comic strip he’s reading before he raises them to me, a question there. They widen when I lean forward and close our mouths together for the first time in countless weeks.

 

“Nothing,” I breathe. I note that his fingers, which are halfway around the handle of his coffee mug, are frozen in place. My smile stretches wider. “Nothing,” I say again. “I just love you, that’s all.”

 

He searches my face very carefully, as if he’s afraid he’s missed something. When I only continue to smile at him, my fingers lingering over his scalp, he murmurs, “…Okay. I love you, too, Sora.”

 

_Do you really?_

_Can you commit the act that you did and still say you love me?_

_Do you know that as much as I love you, I also hate you?_

But it isn’t entirely his fault. I think we both know that.

 

I grab a scarf and a knitted cap from the bench in the mudroom. Riku and I store all of our outside paraphernalia inside of it, and that includes old winter gear that neither of us use anymore. Before I’d always complained to Riku that we should just get rid of it, give it to Good Will or something. But he likes to promise me that one day it might come in handy, and just because it’s not in season doesn’t mean that it’s not usable anymore.

 

_“I don’t care about fashion, Riku.”_

_“That much is apparent.”_

_“No, I mean—this is junk. It’s taking up space.”_

_“Waste not, want not.”_

I thought he was so insufferable. Yet—he’s right, which I see now. Sure, this isn’t probably what he meant when he said that I might have use of these things again. Who cares? The articles of clothing are being reused, and that’s all that matters.

 

Frosty looks much better with some clothes on. I laugh after I put the cap in place, adjusting it to make sure that it’s not lopsided. His arms are extended to the air, already covered in a thin layer of snow. His hard eyes are staring straight past me over his long, orange nose. I’m glad I remembered that carrot.

 

“You know, I was thinking of adding that into tonight’s stew. Guess not now.”

 

I turn. Riku’s standing behind me in his brand new snow boots—the black ones that lace up the front—and he has two cups of cocoa in his hands. Wordlessly, he hands the blue one to me, and I oblige. The first sip threatens to scald my tongue. It’s absolutely blissful. I’m never going to get to burn my tongue while trying to savor a chocolatey treat again. This has more of an impact than I thought it would.

 

Fuck, I’m tearing up again.

 

It’s okay, Sora, it’s okay, it’s just the snow, it’s fucking freezing out here. The wind’s picking up, too. Don’t worry about it. You’re _not_ crying.

 

“It’s been a while since you built a snowman,” Riku observes. He’s quiet, his eyes on the snowman. I follow his gaze, returning mine to Frosty. He’s watching us back, his mouth forever stretched into a crooked smile. At least until the snow melts.

 

“Yeah.” The cocoa isn’t so scalding on the next sip.

 

Quiet settles between us, mostly comfortable. There’s awkwardness there, too. I don’t know how to chase it away, so I don’t bother. Besides, I can’t fix my relationship with Riku in an hour. The four days Death’s allotted me won’t be enough time, either. But I’m not so concerned about repairing things with him. No, I’ve got another plan entirely. Here’s hoping that it won’t backfire. I doubt it will.

 

I’m trying to remember all the good things between Riku and me. Doing that, instead of focusing on the bad, is much harder than I initially considered. A memory of the two of us being positively happy together is slow to dredge itself up—after that one, though… They start to flow in front of my mind’s eye more easily. Riku, holding out his hand to me, a warm smile on his face. Riku, tumbling with me onto our bed as I shriek with laughter. Riku, trailing kisses down my exposed throat as I tilt my head back into the stream of shower water. Riku, pouring over my manuscripts when he doesn’t know I’m watching, his brows creased with concentration.

 

Riku held me when I told him that I wasn’t speaking with my parents anymore. He said that he supported my decision. At the time, I had brushed him off, not fully appreciative of his consolation. Now—now, I wonder if I’m not just taking advantage of Mother Nature’s gifts. Maybe I’m taking advantage of everyone, Riku included.

 

_Oh, you don’t deserve me, Riku. You’d be much happier without me, wouldn’t you? But you’re still here._

It should be enough for me, but it isn’t. It never has been.

 

“I’ve got to go to work soon.” Riku’s voice effectively breaks through my recollection. He’s rubbing his thumb along the rim of his cup, and his eyes aren’t focused on the snowman anymore—more like they’re staring past it. “What are you going to do for the rest of the day? Work on the epilogue of _The Monsters We Created_?” His palms cup the sides of the cocoa as he takes a long, albeit careful sip.

 

“Nah.” I don’t feel like writing it again. I know I should, to spare my editor some grief once I leap from that balcony in four days. She’ll have a heart attack if she thinks that the manuscript goes unfinished while I journey on to the afterlife. Rewriting might be better, actually. I’ll get to improve upon it. I admit that the first draft, the one I’d prepared four days from now, is a bit half-assed. Ah, I’ll save it for later.

 

“So then what?” Riku prompts me after a considerable enough silence has done its second round.

 

“I’m thinking about decorating. We’re lacking in the garland department. Plus, I’m probably going to get a Christmas tree. A real one this year.” Before he can protest, I hastily add, “I know the one in the attic isn’t all that old, but—I don’t know. I just want to look at a brand new one.” _Please. Please, please, please._

I’ve managed to surprise Riku again. Lucky me. “Can you _do_ all of that by yourself?” His eyes narrow. Suspicion is lurking in them. “I thought you said you weren’t celebrating Christmas this year, anyway.”

 

“Well, I’ve changed my mind.” He has every right to be suspicious of my intentions. We had a very big fight about it a few weeks ago. Still—my hackles rise in defense. “I want this to be the best Christmas that we’ve ever shared. Is that so wrong?”

 

Oh, God damn, Sora. Blink them away. _Blink them away_. It’s just the wind drying your eyes out, that’s all!

 

Riku places a kiss to my forehead, and my eyes flutter shut at the touch. That was unexpected. Riku rarely shows his affection so openly unless prompted to. My heart wants to swell with happiness, but instead, sadness lingers within. I don’t think I can be happy about the two of us anymore. Is that bad? When your relationship with somebody gets so skewered that even the good things make you sad? It’s not his intention to, I know. I know this. But…

 

“Are you all right?” His words are a whisper, his fingers a gentle caress in my hair, mirroring how I had touched him in the kitchen.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say.

 

Picking snowflakes that are turning into ice in my hair, Riku studies me. His long lashes flutter over those green irises before lowering, giving me only mere glimpses of the beauty within. I’ve long been mesmerized by them. I don’t think that’s ever going to change. How can someone be so beautiful that it makes you ache to look upon them?

 

I fold my fingers in his wool scarf. When I tug on the long strand of cloth, he leans forward, his mouth meeting mine. Our kiss is sweeter than I expected, but it holds traces of bitterness. Like we want something to be there that isn’t anymore—like we’re desperately holding together what’s left of us even as it slides between our fingers. What is there without the other? We’ve been with one another for so long that things won’t be the same if we’re separated.

 

I think of him at my funeral. How he doesn’t cry. How he is only pretending to be sad.

 

Did I kill us that much? Did I slice up what we have into something that small and inconceivable?

 

Riku resumes kissing me. He was resting his forehead on mine, but now his hands are sliding beneath my turtleneck. His fingers are as cold as the snow, and just as pale. I’ve always liked that about them, though it makes my skin break out in gooseflesh when he touches me. He pulls me closer, and I let him. His mouth is as sweet as it’s always been, full and ready to devour mine. Hey, how long has it been since we last put this much passion in our kiss, Riku? I can’t remember, either.

 

His tongue slants over my bottom lip. I part my mouth for him, allowing entrance. We stay like that for a while, tentatively feeling the other out. Is it bad that I’ve nearly forgotten how to kiss like this? Riku reminds me how, his tongue guiding mine until we create a subtle dance together. A fire that I’m unused to stirs within the pits of my stomach, spreading over my body. I feel like a girl when my toes tingle. I don’t care.

 

_Did you kiss him like this?_

 

I pull away, laughing in embarrassment, like we’ve just gotten caught necking behind the bleachers. My fingers are hot inside of my mittens, so I pull them off and let the cool air nip at them. The wind is refreshingly chill against my equally warm cheeks. Jesus, I’m not sixteen anymore. Riku’s always taken me back to that time in my life, though. Every kiss with him that we’ve both meant has always, _always_ felt new and exciting each time.

 

I honestly thought we lost that feeling, but I guess I’m wrong. It’s not the first time.

 

Riku’s studying my reactions closely. He reminds me of a scientist when he does that. It’s sort of fitting. He is in the forensics field.

 

Eventually, he heads back inside, presumably to get to work. I stay outside and perch on the porch. My cocoa’s grown cool now, yet I don’t mind. Chocolate is chocolate in my book. Riku’s probably dumping his down the sink at this very moment. And he talks to _me_ about wasting. Still—isn’t it those kind of pet peeves that you can’t stand that sort of endear a person to you more? Or maybe that’s just me.

 

His car pulls down the driveway mere minutes later. I see him check his rearview mirror and his side mirrors. Since we’re up on a slope, it can be hard to see who’ll be coming around the corner without a moment’s notice. I worry for nothing—he reverses into the road and then drives off with relative ease, and the knot in my stomach loosens. I don’t know why I bother over-thinking the whole driving thing so much. Everyone else does it. Hell, I drive, too. Just not all that often.

 

The house is quiet without Riku there. Usually there’s a TV on, the Discovery Channel or HBO flickering on its screen and casting muted noises in the background. Riku’s not always watching it, but he claims to like the noise. He pays more for his portion of the power bill than I do, by the way.

 

My shower is short. As I scrub at my body with the dark green loofa, I think back to the last time that Riku joined me in this daily ritual. Two weeks ago, right…? There wasn’t anything romantic about it, though. We both had places to be, and getting clean was our top priority—not kissing under the steamy water like newlyweds until it runs cold and we have to wait until it warms back up to get under it again. Ha, those were the days, weren’t they?

 

I turn on the kitchen TV, a small black box, when I near the toaster to make one of those bagels. I avoid the Weather Channel since I know it’s inaccurate and keep it instead on CNN. Shots of the war and stock prices promise to entertain me for the morning, but I’m not that interested. This morning I’m like Riku—I just want that background noise. No harm in that.

 

The bagel is good, the cream cheese on top is better. I’ve neglected the coffee in favor of another cup of hot chocolate. Instead of taking a seat at the table, I rest my hips against the kitchen counter, one arm wrapped over my stomach as I sip from the cocoa. It’s barely seven and I’m not even tired. The sky is bright with the touch of daybreak, and the snow has yet to cease in its thick sheets. I think of Frosty in the backyard and smile.

 

I think of the kiss and my smile fades.

 

Setting my cup of cocoa down, I cross the kitchen to the medicine cabinet, which is above the sink. My prescription bottle is leering back at me. I withdraw it from the cabinet and twist open the lid, and then let two small pills land in my palm. Every other morning I’ve let Riku believe that I take them. He leaves when I’m still asleep, so he can’t be here while I’m supposed to be taking them. To make up for it, he’ll check the bottle to see if the right number is missing. They are.

 

But that’s only because I throw them away.

 

Today I knock the pills back and make a face once I swallow them.

 

 _Chin up, Sora_ , I think. _You’ll be happy soon._

But that’s what I’ve always resented about the pills. Why can’t I create my own happiness? Why do I have to rely on a stupid anti-depressant to do it for me?

 

* * *

 

It’s nearly ten when I pull out my cell phone to ring my twin brother, Roxas. He doesn’t pick up until the fourth ring or so, and he sounds cranky, like he is still asleep and wants to remain that way.

 

“Hello? Sora? What do you want?”

 

“Let’s go shopping today. For Christmas decorations,” I clarify.

 

He groans. “I thought Riku said you weren’t celebrating Christmas. I thought _you_ said you weren’t celebrating Christmas.”

 

“I’ve changed my mind.” I drum my fingers over the kitchen table. “Want to go or not? Daylight’s burning away.”

 

“I don’t know, Sora, I didn’t get to sleep until late last night…”

 

Ha, and that used to be _my_ excuse for everything. Except I tell the truth, whereas Roxas is merely trying to wiggle his way out of spending time with his brother. Well, I’m not having any of it. I’ve got plans in the motion, and besides, I’m not going to be around for much longer. I want to tell him this, but I know I can’t. Like it’s an unspoken rule or something. Besides, I don’t want him involved.

 

“I miss you, Rox.” My voice drops to a whisper of its own accord. Am I honestly heart-felt about this? Surprise, surprise. “We should be spending more time together.”

 

He’s silent. Probably considering.

 

“I’ll buy you lunch,” I offer.

 

“Argh, fine.”

 

My smile is brief. Shiozus can’t think past their stomachs when an offer of food is made.

 

“I’ll pick you up shortly.” Before he can answer, I hang up.

 

I stare at the phone in my hand for a good while before I get up to get acclimatized for this trip.

 

* * *

 

Roxas looks pretty gloomy when he sees me. He’s standing there, his hands in his pockets, his brows furrowed hard over the bridge of his nose. A black beanie with a crossbones stitched onto the front is on top of his head over that gently spiking blonde hair. Minus that blonde and the two of us are identical in looks only. His personality is on the total opposite side of the spectrum from mine. Whereas I try to be open and friendly (when I’m on my meds), Roxas likes to skulk and brood and have people ask him if he’s all right.

 

But beneath that sad little exterior lies one of the most beautiful smiles he has to offer to the world.

 

I reach over and pull on the latch to the truck door. As it pops open, Roxas slides in, garbed in a dark blue hoodie over a pair of baggy black cargos. He looks like he’s Scrooging it today, and the frown on his face isn’t helping his case any.

 

“Hey,” I say, swiping his beanie and putting it in the glove compartment. He yelps in protest and tries to reacquire it. I shake my head at him, my hand still planted firmly on the compartment door. “Not today, Rox. Let’s try to look presentable, okay?”

 

Roxas’s mood visibly sours—his lips twist to the side, borderline sneer material, and he folds his arms straight across his chest. He has the appearance of shielding himself from the cold or protecting me by keeping his hands clenched against his sides. Like he’s sparing me from a brutal beating. I find it funny.

 

“You treat me like I’m younger than you,” he huffs.

 

“You are, by three minutes. I was almost an only child, remember?”

 

He heaves a sigh like the drama queen he pretends to be and slumps down in the seat. Then he buckles up. “Let’s just go, okay? I don’t even know why you asked me to come if you’re just going to pick on me.”

 

“Because you’re my brother, and I love you.” I glance over my shoulder as I carefully pull out of the driveway. I don’t want the tire to catch a patch of ice, or worse, I don’t want to slam into another car. Tail gating is not on my agenda for the day. “And if you really wanted to, you’d have a bigger arsenal against me. I’m easier to pick on, remember?” My smile is kind as I put the truck into forward motion.

 

Roxas averts his gaze, dragging his fingers through his hair. “It wouldn’t be right to pick on you, though,” he mutters. I can tell he doesn’t want it to be all that audible, but he’s not succeeding very well. “Not with…” He trails off.

 

“I’m depressed, not a social retard,” I say. A strange impulse to ruffle his hair comes over me, and I give into it. He shoots me a questioning look, half surprised, half irate. He doesn’t know what to feel. “I’m not going to fall apart into a thousand pieces if someone says something I don’t want to hear, Roxas.”

 

Silence falls over the interior of the truck. My words are carrying a lot more meaning than what they seem like on the surface. Hidden intentions is all the rage lately. But no, I hadn’t intended for it to be that way. Roxas seems contemplative out of the corner of my eye, though. I’m sure he’s stewing on what I said. Good.

 

_Don’t you know that by acting awkward around me you’re just giving yourself away?_

Or maybe I’m just not blind anymore.

 

I let Roxas have his moment to himself to mull over things. It’s then that I see a flash of red in the rearview mirror, and upon lifting my gaze I discover that Death is sitting in the back seat of the cab.

 

“SORA!” Roxas screams, scrambling back in his seat. “THERE’S A TREE THERE!”

 

I swerve, the tires of the truck running over the curb of the yard where the tree is located. We miss hitting it, but narrowly. When I straighten back out on the road, Roxas is clutching his hands over his heart, breathing hard, his eyes wild in disbelief. Whoops, sorry, buddy.

 

“What’s _wrong_ with you?” he finally explodes. “I mean—we could have—could have—” He breaks off and shakes his head. Apparently it’s too awful to talk about aloud.

 

I have bigger concerns—Death has decided to pay me a visit, and this can’t bode well.

 

The redhead puts his arm around my seat, leaning over to whisper into my ear. Alarmed, I glance to Roxas, but my brother doesn’t notice. Almost like Axel is invisible to him. Like he’s not there at all…

 

“He can’t see me.” Axel is going to win the Mr. Obvious award. “I’m only here for a sec. I have to say, I like where you’re going with this whole four days thing, but need I remind you that you need to be spending your time _wisely_? Four days are up, you jump off the balcony, and it’s all over. No third chances, Sora. Kapiche?”

 

I scowl. As if I’m not aware of how much time I have left exactly. Jesus, I’m not a dummy.

 

After I nod, Axel fades away. I marvel at how it’s like watching a morning glory open up to the morning sun’s rays—one moment he’s there, slowly… evaporating… and the next? When I blink? Gone.

 

I exhale shakily, tightening my grip on the wheel. Roxas is still shooting daggers across from me, eyeing me as if I am the dirge of the underworld. His hands haven’t relinquished their grip on his hoodie.

 

I want to snap, “Oh, get _over_ it.” On any other day, I might. But on any other day, I won’t be dying in four days.

 

So I smile reassuringly at my brother. _C’mon, everything’s peachy keen, all right?_

He eventually returns his gaze to the window where the trees are passing by in blurs of white and green.

 

I release the breath I didn’t know I’ve been holding.

 

* * *

 

Roxas and I used to do everything together. We weren’t the type of twins to resent being so alike—we wouldn’t strive to dress or act differently. Instead we relished in every moment that we were identical. With the exception of Roxas’s hair, no one could tell us apart. A dye kit would have said that, but despite how keen we were on being glued to each other’s hips, Roxas’s blonde hair provided a certain aura of individuality.

 

We were the unbreakable team. We never attempted to outdo the other—we weren’t competitive, and no one could make us be. We were as close as two people can possibly get on a brotherly level. We told each other everything. There weren’t any secrets at all between us. We saw no need to hide anything from the other. It was the perfect friendship. We thrived off our ability to bond so closely.

 

I don’t know where it all went wrong. Neither, I think, does Roxas.

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh. My. God.” Roxas slams the door to the truck bed closed and turns to me. His hands are on his hips, and his eyes are wide in his face. “You wanted to go ornament shopping so close to Christmas _why_?”

 

I shrug and hold back a smug smirk. Roxas’s pain shouldn’t make me happy, I know, but it does. Betrayal seems to have that effect on me. However, I don’t want to be openly vindictive. That would be like going against the grains of my very plan. Thus I keep all of the satisfaction to myself and make sure that the tarp is buttoned completely over the truck bed. It is, so I pat Roxas on the head and climb into the driver’s seat.

 

“We’ve been at this all day,” Roxas laments. He sounds like a petulant child with that whine he’s got going on there. “It’s dinnertime. Can’t we go home yet?”

 

“After we get the tree. Did you forget about it?”

 

“Ugh, Sora, can’t that wait until _tomorrow_?”

 

“Nope, I want to get it done all in one day.” I shove the keys into the ignition and turn them. The truck comes to life with a low purr, but only after I struggle with it. I really need to replace this thing. I just haven’t felt the need to acquire a new vehicle, especially since I don’t drive all that much. The only reason I have something this big is in case Riku and I need to transport something big. Like, say, a Christmas tree.

 

“Aw, man, c’mon, Sora, I’m fucking starving.”

 

“You’re not starving,” I correct him. We’re chugging down the road towards the plantation that my parents normally get their trees from. The thought of them brings a pang to my heart, and I frown, but Roxas doesn’t notice. He’s still harping about that appetite of his.

 

“I _am_ starving,” he insists. “I think I’m going to die if I don’t eat a burger or something soon.”

 

“Geeze.” I glare at him. “Tone it down, will you? Act your age.”

 

“Like you act _yours_?” he snaps back, viciously and out of nowhere. “Riku’s already told me about how you—” He cuts himself off, awkward, his cheeks flaming. “…I mean…”

 

I want him to goad him into telling me. _“C’mon, Roxas, don’t be a chickenshit now, spit it out.”_ But I can’t. Whatever Riku said is probably true, at any rate. “Haha, that’s okay, Rox. I know I’m difficult to be around.” _God, you talk to him a lot more than I do._

“It’s not that,” Roxas says after a long, drawn out moment of a silence that only the humming engine of my truck fills. And we both thought it was awkward _before_ this. “It’s just… I don’t know. I don’t know what it’s like to be your brother anymore. And Riku—don’t tell him I told you this—but Riku says that it’s growing hard to be around you lately. He says he feels like you don’t love him.” Roxas’s teeth worry his bottom lip as I stew over that confession. “I told him that you do, but… he says you two are always fighting, and that you don’t take responsibility for more than half of your actions. Like you’re still a kid or something.”

 

_Well. I’m glad that Riku tells everyone our problems. Or, more specifically, you, my brother._

I’m not being fair, though. I wouldn’t want to talk to me, either.

 

“Sora…? You’re quiet…”

 

“Oh, I’m just thinking.” My tone is airy, light. My heart is heavy, swamped with guilt and conflict. “You seem to know Riku a lot more than I do lately.”

 

“Oh, well—” he starts, his face flaring bright red.

 

“No, no,” I interrupt. I raise a hand. He’s still protesting, so I shake my head. “Rox, it’s okay. I understand. It’s true that Riku and I haven’t been getting along well. And if he can’t confide in me because it’s hard to, then it’s perfectly fine that he goes to you with his problems.” It’s not okay. I hate it. I fucking despise it. But… I love my brother. And I love Riku. Sometimes I wonder who I love more. A tough call, that one. “At least this way he has someone to talk to.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“Hmm? Me?” I glance at him as we pull to a stop in the next traffic light.

 

He swallows, his hands folded in his lap between his thighs. “…Who do _you_ confide in?”

 

_No one. I confide in nobody. There’s no one there to listen to me._

My smile feels fake and probably looks fake. Roxas doesn’t comment on it.

 

“Oh, you know,” I say. “I’ve got my manuscripts to occupy me. There’s not much time for anything else.”

 

Roxas doesn’t seem satisfied with my answer, and those blue eyes so eerily similar to my own are glowing with displeasure. Yeah, it was a crummy answer. So what? Do you have anything better? You know full well I don’t talk to anybody, Rox. Which may have been the _point_ of the question, but… still.

 

He picks up his phone again, not so discreetly hiding the screen so that I can’t look at it. He’s typing a text to somebody. I don’t pry. I already know who it is.

 

Inside, my heart trembles.

 

Fucking hell.

 

* * *

 

Acquiring a Christmas tree is harder than my parents always made it out to be. For one, I have no idea what size I want mine to be. For two—Roxas is irritable and I’m ready to smack him, so it’s hard to concentrate.

 

“Fuck, it’s cold out here,” he says, shivering, and retracts his hands deeper into the sleeves of his hoodie.

 

“Oh, can it. It hasn’t snowed since lunch, Rox.” What a baby. How Riku could have—no, no. No. Roxas isn’t always a brat, and I’m not venturing down the road. I’m _not_. “The sooner you help me here, the sooner we can leave, all right.”

 

Roxas turns and lifts his arm to point to some man that’s walking past our row. “Hey, what about him? Think he works here?”

 

Sighing in exasperation, I look to where he’s gesturing.

 

My heart nearly stops in my chest in a way it hasn’t done in many, many years.

 

Tall. Very tall. And shaggy brown hair the color of milk chocolate to go with it, layered and falling down to rest against the collar of a jacket. Said jacket is a very dark brown of leather with a fur trimming—maybe a bomber? I think so, but I’m not sure. Besides, that’s not what matters. What does is that ass in those jeans, along with the detailed outline of developed calves pressing against the legs of those jeans.

 

Turn around, Mister, show me your face.

 

“Hey! Hey, you!”

 

Hey, you, says my brother. How civil.

 

The guy does stop, however, turning to face us. He’s kind of out of breath with this distracted expression on his face, like he has places to be, people to see, neither of which are us and our current location. He raises his brows. Just looking at him makes _me_ out of breath.

 

There’s a long scar running diagonally down the length of his nose, just between a pair of smoky grays. Full lips, strong jaw, angular nose. He’s definitely super model material. Thing is, I doubt he works here. Someone that gorgeous, cutting down pine trees? Roxas must be blind. Either that or is head is filled up with too many thoughts of my—no, Sora. No. Not here, not now.

 

“What?” breathes the stranger. He rubs his hand under his nose, and then sniffs. It _is_ pretty cold. “I’m in a hurry, so make it—”

 

“Could you help us pick out a tree?”

 

“What?” Stranger says again. Now he’s just confused—and then, realization dawns upon him. He holds up his hand, already shaking his head. “Sorry, no can do. I don’t work here. I’m just here to pick up a tree myself.”

 

“Sorry for troubling you, then.” Roxas’s grin is sheepish.

 

Stranger doesn’t bother replying. He’s already walking off, his eyes ahead, focused on his task. Whatever that may be.

 

I can’t help but laugh when Roxas turns back to me, his expression now bewildered.

 

“He totally looks like the hard labor guy.” He frowns and scratches at his forehead.

 

“Wanna know what tipped me off to let me know he isn’t?”

 

“Sure, do indulge me.”

 

“Those clothes were too expensive and clean for this kind of job.”

 

“Damn, Sora.” Roxas’s eyes are kind of admiring. I have to look away. “You’re perceptive, you know that?”

 

I’m ashamed. The only reason I’d even noticed was because I was so taken with that random man that it was like I soaked in every detail. For one minute, I was the sponge, afraid to miss anything. Of course I’d seen that those guy’s pants aren't covered in dirt and pine sap—staring at his ass had shown me the lack of both.

 

“Not really,” I say after his look grows expectant. Apparently I’m supposed to treasure this compliment that he’s thrown my way. And then, to focus the attention on my brother and ease my discomfort and guilt, “It’s just that my brain isn’t the size of a pea, that’s all.”

 

We spend the rest of the evening quarreling, even as we finally find a man to saddle up my tree to my truck bed. I would say it reminds me of old times, except for now we’ve got some underlying edge to all of it. God damn, when… when did we grow to hate each other this much?

 

I miss Roxas.

 

I want my brother back.

 

And it’s so, so impossible right now for that to happen.

 

Can’t I just go back in time and be ten again? We can dress the same way, act the same way, talk the same way. Aggravate our parents the same way. The parents that I haven’t spoken to in five years. Maybe if I’m nice to him—maybe if I just tell him what I really feel—maybe then… maybe then he’ll come to my funeral.

 

“We haven’t spoken to each other in months, Sora.”

 

I know. I know that.

 

“When’s the last time you called Mom and Dad, eh?”

 

Stop, please just stop.

 

“But now you just go and call me out of the blue.”

 

Shut up. Shut up!

 

“I really don’t get you.”

 

I don’t get myself, either, shouldn’t that be obvious?

 

“This isn’t going to make everything better—talking to me.”

 

I know… I _know_ …

 

“Sora, _say something_. I hate it when you go quiet like that. It drives me crazy, you know that?”

 

I offer him a smile and park the car as we pull into his driveway. “I’m sorry.”

 

He rolls his eyes and sighs. He rests his temple against the window of the truck, crossing his arms, his expression dark and brooding. Ah, well. So it’s his turn at it, is it? Be my guest, Rox. You’re probably better at sorting through your thoughts than I am.

 

I look at his profile in the semi-dark—the floodlight to his garage has come on at our arrival and is providing some light so that we can at least see what the hell we’re doing. Or he can, when he ambles out of my truck. Still, it’s enough to see his profile in, and I feel my smile growing faint. Why does it have to be like this, huh? Why are you better than me? What did I do to lose the both of you? No, don’t answer that. I already know. I know I suck.

 

But I’m trying to be better.

 

“I’ve gotta go,” he abruptly announces and jerks open the latch to the passenger door. Hopping down from the truck, he turns after a pause, his eyes seeking out mine in the shadows. I’m not smiling this time. Neither is he.

 

“You know you can tell me anything, Rox.” I keep my voice as quiet as possible but still on the audible range. “Like how we used to.”

 

Something flickers through his eyes. Something unsure, something afraid.

 

He closes my door without another word, and I don’t leave until I see him enter the door of his house and pass out of my line of sight.

 

My cheeks are wet.

 

I just don’t care anymore.

 

* * *

 

I hear Riku’s keys in the front doorway jingling as he makes his way inside our house. I hesitate, turning my head in that direction, before I resume my ornament decoration. He bustles around for a few minutes. He’s probably taking off his coat, his scarf, his gloves. Shifting through today’s mail. I’m content to listen to all the familiar noises that I never really take pleasure in until tonight, and I hang my next ornament on the tree.

 

The tree’s already in its watering can and it’s lit up. I like to work with the glow of the lights on my face as I spend my time deliberating over which ornament I’d like to place up next. In the background, I have my iPod stereo set to shuffle through my playlist. No Christmas tunes or anything like that except for the occasional one. In fact, I’m using the same playlist that I like to sit down and write my manuscripts to. It’s comforting music, albeit on the depressing side.

 

Riku enters the room. He pauses in the doorway. His hands come up to rest against the sides of the entranceway as he looks at me. “What are you doing?”

 

What does it look like?

 

I save the scathing remark for another day even though my irritation has just gotten piqued. “Putting up our tree.”

 

His expression shifts into one of surprise.

 

“What? I told you I would.”

 

He gives me a short laugh, more like a, “Heh,” and steps down into the den with me. His long, slender fingers are working at loosening his tie, and he eyes me as he brushes past me. “You need to start packing tomorrow to get ready for our trip. We have to leave in the evening, remember?”

 

Stepping on my tippy toes to reach a high branch for the ornament, I smile. “I know.”

 

Riku’s route comes up short at that. I can almost _feel_ him considering what he’s about to say before he turns to face me. “Sora,” he says. “Why did you buy all of this stuff when we’re not going to be here to enjoy it?”  

 

I pick up a new box of ornaments. “You didn’t mention this earlier this morning.”

 

He sighs in frustration and buries his fingers in his hair. His other fist settles on his hip, and he’s casting his eyes listlessly about the room. “Because I honestly thought you weren’t serious about getting all of this stuff,” he informs me at last. “That it was just going to be something else you said you were going to do, and then you wind up not doing it.” He shrugs. Simple, Sora. Simple. Two plus two equals four.

 

I set my teeth. He’s being fair, I reason. The question comes out, anyway, like poison, “What is that supposed to mean?”

 

He fixes me with a long look. “You know what I mean.”  

 

“Riku…” I lower my head and purse my lips. “I don’t want to fight.”

 

“For once,” Riku mutters.

 

Wow, Riku, want to attack me some more here? C’mon, just lay it on me, why don’t you?

 

Steeling myself against the answer I know I’ll get, I lift my head to find him already watching me. Intently. “Do you really want me to go on that trip with you to visit your parents?”

 

He’s gotten quiet, but the intensity in his eyes doesn’t leave. He’s trying to tell me something that I already know without having to say it out loud. Fucking coward. “My parents are expecting you to be there, Sora.”

 

I raise my chin. “But what about _you_?”

 

“Ha.” And then it’s out. “I honestly don’t care either way.”

 

Wetting my lips and holding back about ten or eleven snarky remarks, I put the ornament case down. Riku’s starting to walk to the back of the house where the upstairs staircase is, but I stop him by wrapping my arms around him from behind. I don’t know what I’m expecting—the hurt in my heart to die down, sure. Riku to turn me around in his arms and kiss me like he did this morning would be nice, too.

 

He stiffens, his body tense all over.

 

I know I’ve lost him.

 

Riku pulls away. “I’ve got to get a shower. It’s getting late. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

 

I love you, too, Riku.

 

I stay in the den to finish decorating the tree. I know that I’m not going to be getting to bed until it’s way late, but I don’t care, and I suspect that Riku doesn’t, either. We’re agreeing on something for once. I should be happy. I’m not.

 

So why am I not as mad at Riku as I was before? I know if I check Riku’s phone, I’ll find several text messages to Roxas’s. I can really go ahead and confront the both of them about this now. I certainly hadn’t before. Not talking to Roxas had made such a thing harder to do, but hey. Things are different this time around, aren’t they?

 

But I don’t want to—not yet. I can’t blame Riku for the decision he’s made. He thinks that I don’t care about him anymore, and he’s resolute in his decision that things are probably over between us. What is my happy attitude going to solve now? What difference do a few kisses out of the blue in the morning make? And I’m sure you told him just how much, Roxas.

 

The ache in my smile doesn’t quite match the ache in my heart as I add the last ornament to the tree.  


	3. And If I Wanted to Kiss You...

Eggs.

 

Fried eggs.

 

My eyes flutter open. For a moment, I can’t see anything—there’s a cover in my way, along with a good portion of my pillow. I clear these aside and lift my head to look for the alarm, but before I can spot it, I notice that Riku’s side of the bed is empty. I pat over the rumpled spot he’d laid in. The sheets are semi-warm. What time is it?

 

Eight-ish.

 

I fall back onto the pillows, closing my eyes. God, I want to go back to sleep. It’ll be so, so much easier than getting up right now. Besides, haven’t Riku and I talked about this? On several different occasions? Lay off the breakfast-y goodness unless both of us are awake. The smell from the cooking grease is clinging to my nostrils and stirring my stomach, enticing in every way. Urf, but I hate eating breakfast so early.

 

My shirt’s hanging off the lamp shade on my nightstand. I pull it over my head as my feet find the hardwood of the floor. Cold shocks through me, but I’ve been half-braced for it, so it’s okay. Why does Riku never turn on the heater? Doesn’t he know that it’s fucking freezing at this time in the morning? Or at _any_ time during the winter in the mountains? Fucking hell. _Fucking hell_ , it is _freezing_!

 

Sure enough, the needle of the thermostat in the hallway is pointing at a low of sixty degrees. How insane _is_ Riku? Surely he’d note the cold, even with the heat undoubtedly suffusing the kitchen at the moment from all that frying food? I seriously wonder about him.

 

The next thing I know, I’m flat on my face and a broomstick is clattering across the floor. What the _fuck_ is a broom doing in the middle of the God-forsaken hallway?

 

I growl and plant my hands on the floor to push myself into an upright position. What is he, half-ass cleaning around here? That’s always been Riku. Oh, let’s start vacuuming the living room, except get distracted by a thought halfway through and leave the power cord out in the open for Sora’s bare foot to land on. Oh, let’s mop the kitchen floor and then neglect to tell Sora that it’s wet when he comes home, making a way for Sora to crack his head?

 

I’ve got half a mind to tell Riku where to stick it.

 

Something’s wrong.

 

Something’s seriously wrong.

 

I stagger against the wall, my shoulder slamming into it, and cup a hand over my forehead. A ringing has started in my ears, so sharp it’s shrill. It grates against the core of my eardrums, akin to someone taking a fork and scraping it over their teeth, over and over again. My teeth grit, my jaw clenching in reflex. I bury my fingers in my hair and dig my nails into my scalp as tears well up in my eyes. Oh, fuck. Oh, _fuck_.

 

Hardwood is unforgiving against my knees when I collapse. I bow over, my elbows digging into my thighs. God. God. God, what’s happening? What’s fucking happening?!

 

_Snow._

_Snow everywhere._

_Red._

_Red snow._

_Why is the snow red? Shouldn’t be… snow’s white. Really… really fucking white… but there’s all this red here, and—oh. Oh, no, wait. That’s…_

“Sora! Sora, open your eyes! Sora!”

 

“Christ, look at him.”

 

_Hurt._

**_Hurt._ **

****

Green. Beautiful, beautiful green.

 

Wet green.

 

Wet… it’s glistening…

 

“Why… Sora, _why_ …?”

 

_Because you don’t love me anymore!_

_Because you love him more than you love me!_

_Because you abandoned me!_

_Because I hate you!_

_Because you don’t want me!_

Fingers… So warm, so warm…

 

“…ah… a…. ahp—appier…”

 

_“Sora!”_

 

“Shh, don’t talk, don’t talk, the ambulance is on its way, baby.”

 

_…so dark… Everything’s—_

_Everything’s growing so dark around the edges._

“…without me…”

 

_…So dark…_

“SORA! Sora, _wake up_!”

 

Someone is gripping me, holding my arms as I struggle. I yell as loud as I can, and it transforms into a scream that scrubs my throat raw. I don’t know what I’m fighting against—I can’t see my attacker. All I know is that it’s dark and that it’s suffocating me and it wants to take me away. But I’m not ready to leave yet, I’m not—

 

“You don’t have to leave, Sora, you don’t have to leave! Baby, calm down!”

 

I can barely breathe. My lungs are constricting and I’m coughing and my eyes are wet, so very wet. All I can see is red, red snow. Sad eyes. I thought I’d never see them so sad again. I don’t want to. I can’t. I can’t do this. I don’t want to leave. Riku, Riku, I don’t _want to leave_. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.

 

“Sora!”

 

Everything’s distorted. There are flashes of red, of white, of green, of black. Silver. Silver, oh, God, silver.

                                                                                                             

I come to, sitting straight up in bed. 

 

I’m hiccupping, and my nails have dug burrows into Riku’s skin. He’s holding me close against his chest now. We’re rocking, back and forth, back and forth, and his fingers are buried in my hair. I’m still bawling like a newborn. I don’t want to, but God, I am. I really am. I don’t think I can stop, either. At least, not so soon. Not yet. Not so soon after awaking from the throes of that awful dream.

 

Riku drops a kiss to my forehead. “Shh, I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere…”

 

_You don’t have to, because I am._

The thought comes unbidden. I hide my face in Riku’s neck where the scent of his aftershave is so familiar and safe and comforting. His hands rub over my back in soothing circles. He’s gripping onto me like he’s afraid to let me go.

 

And I don’t want him to. I don’t want him to let me go.

 

But he has to.

 

He has to.

 

* * *

 

It was raining.

 

Riku and I were playing in it, laughing and carrying on like nobody’s business. God knows it had to be dangerous. Dark clouds loomed over the horizon as a fell wind swept in and rustled through the trees. All that wind made the rain lash against us harder. I don’t think we really cared. If anything, the heated bolts of lightning searing the air just made our hearts beat faster in our excitement.

 

Weren’t those the days? When I was twelve, and he was thirteen, and we were very much in love with the idea of being best friends?

 

Roxas is beside me. He’s standing beneath the porch’s shelter to our home. Longing is in his eyes, a longing so deep and piercing that I couldn’t recognize it as a child—not fully. But now, now after feeling that own longing in my heart, I can relate. I want to push him out into the rain and tell him, “Hey, kid, listen—the rain’s not so bad. And I’m not hogging Riku to myself out there,” but I doubt he’ll be able to hear me.

 

Not in this place.

 

Out in the yard, I shrieked with laughter. I was covered in mud—so was Riku. We were really clobbering each other in it. Later Mom took one look at us and sent us straight to the bath. We carried somber expressions the whole way, until we made it to the bathroom and broke into poorly contained giggles. Roxas didn’t get to share in that fun. He’d turned his nose at us and pretended to be disgusted with the idea we had found so exciting and adventuresome. I wish I had known then that he’d only been pretending.

 

I look down at Roxas. The rain is drumming along the porch roof and spilling over its sides to patter in small puddles on the ground. I place my hand over my twin’s shoulder and squeeze it. It’s not the rain that Roxas is envious of—it’s that I was spending so much time with Riku. Riku was spending so much time with me. Where was there room for Roxas?

 

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, and I kneel beside him, my hand firm on his shoulder. I look up at him. He’s gazing straight ahead, at the two figures throwing handfuls of mud at one another in streaks of sticky brown. “Roxas, I’m so sorry.”

 

Roxas blinks slowly. Forks of electricity light up the horizon. Thunder rumbles.

 

“You loved him first, didn’t you?”

 

He’s still gazing out at the rain. I stare with him, my hand falling from his shoulder.

 

Together we watch Riku scoop up some more mud and throw it at me. I shriek with glee and run away. I’m screaming, “Stop, Riku, stop!” but it’s obvious that I don’t want him to.

 

A faint smile touches the corner of Roxas’s mouth.

 

* * *

 

“Yes… Yes, I understand… No, that’s all right.”

 

I wake for what I believe is the second time today, but this time it’s not from a fit of nightmares. It takes me a moment longer than I would have liked to discover the whereabouts of Riku. I know he’s close by—I can hear him talking to somebody on the phone.

 

“Well, it’s not like you can help it.”

 

He’s in front of the bay window. He’s wearing a pair of slacks and a thin sweater over a button-up shirt, from what I can see from this angle. His hand’s tucked into his pocket, the other is curled around the cordless phone. His back is facing me. I admire the broad line of his shoulders and smile lazily as I settle into my sheets and pillows. He’s so beautiful. Why don’t I notice this every day? Why I am so quick to take… to take advantage of it…

 

“No, Mom, it’s okay. We’ll just go another time.”

 

Wait, what?

 

Go another time? Is Riku cancelling our trip to his parents’ house? I find this astounding, considering that every year we _always_ go. No blizzard or hail storm can stop Riku from making it across three states to spend time with his family. He just loves them too much. Five years… ever since I estranged myself from my own family…

 

“Yeah, I’ll make sure Sora understands.”

 

Good, because I’m lost.

 

“I’m sure he will. Mhm, yeah. Okay. Bye.” 

 

Riku hangs up the cordless. Instead of turning around, he leans against the window frame with his shoulder, his arms crossed and one of his knees resting on the sill’s pillow cushions. I doubt he’s gazing out at the snow. He’s probably got a lot on his mind right now.

 

I still remember when he used to tell me everything—anything that was bothering him, I would know about. Riku and I have always been close, you see. Ever since Roxas brought him home one evening to say that he’d met Riku at the park and wanted Riku to eat dinner with our family. It was an instant trust, an instant companionship that bloomed. Oh, our relationship could have withstood wars and the end of the world. Something like what we had was made of the strongest stuff.

 

Then it all started crumbling to pieces.

 

I’ll be the first to admit (at least, I will now) that the problems the two of us have stem from me. I was more reluctant to say so beforehand, but… knowing the outcome of three days from now has given me fresh perspectives on things.

 

I want Riku to want me like he used to. To need me like he used to. Before all the senseless arguing started—before I began to push him away.

 

Riku… you’ve always been there for me. And I’ve always, _always_ taken advantage of you. I’ve always made you my crutch. I guess you’re tired of getting leaned on—I know I would be. But bear with me for just a little longer, okay? I promise things’ll be fine again soon. You’ll see.

 

He turns from the window, pauses when he sees that I’m awake. The surprise in his eyes clears first, the frown on his mouth second. “Sora,” he says, smoothing his expression onto the pleasant level, or at least nearby it. He sits on the side of the bed, and it sinks with his weight. His hand finds my knee beneath the covers, but I think the gesture is more habit than anything else. Especially with the way his eyes are distracted and not looking at me.

 

“We can’t go to Mom’s house this year. They discovered black mold in the walls, and they’re having to completely renovate the place.” He shakes his head. “That place was getting old, anyway, so I can’t say I’m all that surprised.”

 

I frown. “Where will Yukiru be staying?”

 

“Oh, with my grandparents until the repairs can be completed.” His eyes are still distant. They’ve called a spot on the wall their own.

 

This is all very confusing for me. Not about Riku’s family’s misfortune—well, it’s related to that, actually. The fact of the matter is, _this_ —this whole thing with Yukiru’s house? It didn’t happen last time.

 

An almost surreal feeling settles over me as I contemplate this, worse than the nightmare that I had this morning. There’s nothing like a good old dream to remind you of how snotty and bratty you were beforehand to the people who care about you, but… that was on the twenty-first, the first time around. And now this time I woke up screaming, and Riku’s on the phone with his mom telling her it’s okay that we can’t spend Christmas at her house this holiday.

 

What is this, a parallel universe? Seems like it. I know that it’s just because I’m doing things differently now than the first time, so _of course_ events are going to change in correspondence with this. It’s just odd, that’s all. I expected the way people act around me to change, not something huge like this. I mean, Yukiru’s house is where I’m supposed to throw myself off her balcony. Or maybe it’s just a balcony in general?

 

Black mold, though. Wouldn’t something _that_ extreme have happened last time?

 

I remember that old saying that if you go back in time and step on an ant, the future will irrevocably change. Maybe it’s true?

 

Riku seems to have taken my silence as a cue that I’m upset, for he says, “I’m sorry, Sora. I know you really wanted to get away from here.”

 

He starts to stand, and I squeeze his fingers to stop him.

 

“No.” I sit up, clutching more securely at his departing fingers, which have attempted to still slip away from mine. “No, I’m fine. I really just want to spend Christmas with _you_ , Riku.”

 

My lover eyes me uncertainly, but he resumes his previous seat. “Sora…” he begins in halting tones. “…Look, you don’t have to pretend that you’re okay with this just to make me happy. I thought we were supposed to be honest with each other.”

 

Ha! Kind of like how you’re busy having an affair and think I’m too stupid to notice it?

 

That isn’t fair. On the nineteenth, it had taken an associate of mine to show me a picture of Riku embracing another man. I’d been completely shocked, not to mention devastated. But now… now that I know it’s here? Now that I’m reliving my four days to make amends? It’s all staring me in the face, really. Why can’t he just come out and say it? Why doesn’t he just tell me that he doesn’t love me anymore? I know that I could easily confront him about it, yet… I’m afraid to. I’m afraid that I’m right—that he _doesn’t_ care about me.

 

Why else would you cheat on the person you’re with, though? If things are better with _him_ , Riku, then just dump me and move on. Wouldn’t that be easier? I know I’m difficult to live with, that I treat you like shit. I know it. I may not have wanted to admit it before, but I am now. It’s okay. Leave me if you want—just make it easier on the both of us.

 

The words are in my throat to say them. I swallow them back and lower my eyes. Riku is watching me expectantly.

 

“I know that—that you think that this is all an act, Riku. But it’s not, okay?” I clasp his hand between both of mine. “I’ve been an idiot lately, a total jackass.”

 

Riku’s smile is hesitant, sad. “Sora…”

 

“No,” I interrupt quickly. He’s already shaking his head, and panic grows within me. “I really, _really_ want to change it, all right? I’d be suspicious of me, too, but—Riku. I _mean it_. I _need you_. I _want you_. How can I _prove_ to you that I’m still in love with you? That I mean what I’m saying right now?”

 

He blows out a breath, his gaze drifting aimlessly about the room. His hand is warm between mine. “Once upon a time,” he says after a moment, “I used to be able to tell from your kiss whether or not you were still sincere.”

 

Hope leaps in my chest. The emotion wants to dance around happily. I hold it back because I know that it’s too soon to act on it.

 

Keeping my voice quiet lest my uncertainty crawls into it, I whisper, “What about the kiss that we shared yesterday morning?”

 

He hums. “I don’t know, you see—it was the first one in a few weeks, so we were kind of awkward.”

 

“Well, let’s try one now.”

 

Riku frowns as suspicion renews itself in his eyes.

 

“Okay, maybe not now,” I amend. A smile tugs at one corner of my mouth. “I have morning breath, and expecting the kiss will just make you biased, anyway.”

 

He laughs, and my heart jumps. “Fair enough. Surprise me.”

 

My smile spreads. It hurts, but I don’t care. This is just encouragement to work those muscles more. Besides, when this one encompasses my mouth, it mirrors itself on Riku’s, and he twists his fingers in mine to squeeze them.

 

“I’ll do that, then,” I say.

 

Our eyes connect. I can see the darker freckles of green in his irises. And if I look deeper, I can see what I’m sure rests in my eyes—that desperate hope that things will change, that things will get better.  

 

* * *

 

“If we can’t spend Christmas with your family, then maybe we should share it with _mine_.”

 

We’re lying side by side on the bed with our fingers entangled as I bring the subject around. We’ve already made the bed to make it easier to rest on top of the covers, and more often than not do our gazes roam up toward the ceiling. Shadows are playing there, a dark dance with the sun’s mid-morning rays. Leap, parry, leap, retreat… It’s almost like watching a sword fight, I think. Except the dust motes seem to be winning, and before long, the shadows have edged to the far bit of wall, clinging to its upper corners.

 

I feel more than see Riku turn his head to examine me with those scientist’s eyes. I normally don’t like to be scrutinized like this, but it’s Riku, and he knows me better than anyone. He’s not going to uncover any new discoveries.

 

“You haven’t spoken to your family in years,” he says, after a lengthy enough moment of silence has passed. “Like… four or five?”

 

“I know.”

 

Riku is studying me again. He’s making me feel like I’m beneath his microscope and awaiting the results—can he find the lie in my truth? So I turn my head to smile at him and run my fingers over his forearm, playing with the pale hairs there. 

 

“Are you sure?” Riku murmurs.

 

“Mhmmm.” I prop myself up on an elbow and lean over him. My hand darts from his forearm to his chest, where I let it settle over his heart. It’s beating calmly beneath a very firm pectoral, and I have to resist the urge to stroke it lovingly. I’m not sure if Riku is ready yet for touches outside of the affectionate field (read: suggestive). “You never know when something is going to happen to take the people you love the most away from you.”

 

His mouth opens, but no words come out. Slowly, it closes again. Hesitation is written plainly on his face. Uncertainty lingers on his lips and around the corners of his eyes. I can’t blame him. This is out of the blue, and it _has_ been five years. What are you doing, Sora? Starting World War III? Close enough, I think. Close enough.

 

Sitting up and reaching for my nightstand, where he left the cordless, I ponder about the decision I’ve just made. Not the one about my parents—no, the one concerning my brother and what I’m about to do. Is this safe? Will it just make Riku enraged at me again? Maybe, but… I still need to test the waters, search for all the torpedoes. I’m sure that there are quite a few lurking in the waters, and I want to exploit them all. Even if I lose a limb or two in the process.

 

Or my heart.

 

“Who are you calling?” Riku inquires to my back.

 

I’m perched on the edge of my bed. “Roxas.”

 

“What?!”

 

Riku is the epitome of alarm. When I glance over my shoulder, I see that he’s blushing and scrambling into an upright position. He averts his gaze and scrubs his hands over his face. He’s trying to cover the outburst up by acting nonchalant, but I find it all interesting. I’ve never been able to make his face turn that shade of color outside of wrestling or sex.

 

“I mean,” he says, calmly, “you haven’t talked to him in a while. Won’t he find this intrusive?” His eyes meet mine across the bed.

 

I narrow mine. If Roxas was texting Riku all day yesterday, wouldn’t he have known that I spent the day with my twin? That texting certainly would have indicated as much. This sudden situation either means one of three things. The first? Riku is lying to my face. The second? Roxas didn’t tell him who he was with during the Commencement of the Texts. The third? Roxas really wasn’t texting Riku.

 

I’m going to cross option number three off my list. Roxas was definitely texting Riku, because there was no other explanation for Riku’s change of behavior from the morning to the afternoon except for Roxas goading him into such a state. I know my baby well, and on most days? He trusts me. Without some sort of outside interference, I would have been met as warmly last night as he had left me that morning.

 

So that leaves option one or two. I don't want to believe one, but that doesn't mean I can rule it out. Not and be fair to myself.

 

Riku is watching me. I recall his last words and respond accordingly. “No more intrusive than my parents. And besides, I was with him all day yesterday.” A smile stretches over the length of my lips. I’m pretty sure it can rival the sun right now. “We had a blast.”

 

He’s doing the impersonation of a fish again—he’s quite good at it. “You were with Roxas yesterday?” he hedges when my smile goes up a notch. He’s not really meeting my eyes again, and his brows are furrowed. I know that expression well—it means he’s troubled about something. Troubled in a surprised way, like an obstacle came up in his work that he hadn’t expected.

 

Option number two, anyone?

 

“I just want to find out if he’s going to be at our parents’ for Christmas, Riku. Relax.” I sit on the windowsill and absentmindedly pull a favorite throw pillow into my lap to hang on to. I need a yielding surface to dig my fingers into if the situation grows ugly. I doubt it will, but in this sort of delicate world of love affairs and ruined relationships, you never know. “It’s not like I’m trying to steal him away from you or anything.”

 

I add the last part as I finish dialing the last number to reach Roxas’s phone and raise my own phone to my ear. Riku is quiet. Very, very quiet.

 

There seems to be a question hanging around in the air.

 

_Does he know?_

 

I fight against the bitter smile that wants to make its way to my mouth. Mostly because I think I’ll start crying if I let it show itself.

 

“What do you mean, Sora?” Riku asks. His voice is like a lone note on a piano, spreading through the silence in its low pitch, ominous and promising of more to come.

 

I’m saved because Roxas picks up on the other end of the line.

 

“ _What_?”

 

Good morning to you, too. “You going to be at Mom and Dad’s for Christmas?”

 

For a moment, all I hear is Roxas’s heavy breathing. And then, groggy with sleep and anger, “Of course I am.”

 

I glance at Riku as I settle my back against the nippy window. I can’t remember the last time I saw that much impatience fill his features.

 

“Okay. I was just wondering—do you know if their home number is still the same?” Of course he knows.

 

“Yeah, it is.” There’s a hesitation. “Why, what do you need it for?”

 

Nosey much? “Just to tell them that I’m going to be there for Christmas.”

 

The second hesitation is longer. “…Really?” Roxas is attempting to play the game of polite interest, but he’s never been all that good at it. Why? Because he’s not polite to start with, so no one ever buys into it.

 

“Yeah. I miss them,” I say, “and I’ve been an idiot for all these years for not talking to them.”

 

“Well.” Is that mild approval in my brother’s voice, mingled in with a dash of suspicion? “They’ll be happy to hear that. I’m glad you finally came to your senses.”

 

The jab is meant to be light-hearted, so I take it as such. Besides, when’s the last time Roxas and I made a comment to be good-natured and playful and not snarky and spiteful?

 

“Yeah. Oh, hey,” I say suddenly, getting to my feet. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom. Want to talk to Riku for a sec in the meantime?”

 

“What?!”

 

Oh, the two of them are not hiding this very well _at all_.

 

_Color me surprised._

“Yeah,” I chirp. Riku looks indecisive, like he doesn’t know whether to tell me no or take the phone. Which action won’t signal the alarm? Wish I could help you there, Riku, but you dug this grave yourself. “Here, hold on.”

 

Roxas seems to have decided for them. “No! Wait a min—”

 

I toss the phone at Riku. He regains his motor skills and starts to protest, but I’m already in the bathroom and closing the door. I flick on the lights. The toilet is waiting for me. I ignore it and instead grab the night glass on the sink. The door is wood, so it shouldn’t be so hard to hear through it. I raise the glass, pressing the rim to the door and my ear against the bottom of it. Riku’s voice comes to my ear in a muffled form, but in one that’s understandable.

 

_“I’m sorry, Rox.”_

Rox. ROX!

 

 _“I can’t believe that you were with Sora yesterday and didn’t tell me. … Well, you shouldn’t have been texting me if Sora was there. … I don’t care, Rox. It’s wrong to do that. … Yeah, he can be an ass sometimes. But I try to treat people like **I** want to be treated. I wouldn’t have been sitting there, texting you if my brother was…” _Riku’s voice is growing in volume, and I can hear that he’s struggling to bring it down a few notches.

 

_“I don’t know what he’s up to. I know. I know… but… well, I don’t know if he’s acting now. He said he—well. … **I** care what he said, Rox.” _

I raise my brows. Gee, Rox, thanks.

 

 _“Listen,”_ Riku says. _“This is getting out of control. I never meant for Sora to find out, and I think he’s on to us.”_

You think?

 

_“Yes. What? No, I’m not going to tell him. …Because he’ll break up with me! …No, I don’t want that… What? You or him?”_

My heart clenches so painfully in my chest I fear I’m about to have an early death. Again.

 

_“Rox, you know you won’t like the answer.”_

Okay, feeling slightly better here. My heart’s not ceasing in its incessant pounding, though.

 

_“I told you before this all started that my heart belongs to—if you hang up, Sora is going to be suspicious. Argh, Rox, c’mon, stop it. I don’t want to do this right now. …No, I **don’t** want him to find out! You’re just hoping that he’ll break up with me if he—”_

I press the glass harder against the door, as if this is going to make Riku’s next words louder.

 

Someone is tapping my shoulder.

 

I whirl, starting in surprise, and clutch the glass to my chest. Axel is standing there. His hands are on his hips and his eyebrows are raised nearly to his hairline. He looks disapproving. Great. Death is upset with me, too. Geeze, what else do I need here? I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.

 

I’ve never liked people being disappointed in me. Though you wouldn’t be able to tell it by the way I act towards the ones that I disappoint.

 

“What are you doing here?” I hiss.

 

Axel puts a finger over his mouth. “He’ll hear you. Listen—are you sure? That you want to do what it is you’re planning?”

 

I frown at him. “What is it that I’m planning?”

 

He lays it out like he’s spreading a map to my heart across the table. “To find out how Riku still feels about you, and if it’s obvious that he’s made up his mind that the two of you are finished, you let him go to your brother.”

 

Guilty as charged.

 

Axel gives me this long look, sort of like the ones that Riku never runs out of. It’s not quite condescending; it’s more along the lines of considering me closely. Hm, how about when a teacher leans in close to you and says something that you might want to really keep in mind lest you get into trouble. Don’t you want to be a good boy, Sora?

 

Axel’s that teacher. “Are you sure you want to let him go so easily?” he says slowly, and his eyes bore into mine. There’s barely an inch between our faces right now. I’ve just now noticed that his pupils really _do_ glow—before, I had thought it a figment of my imagination.

 

Since we’re playing the honest game, I lift my chin and squarely return the look. I’ve never wanted to have so much eye contact with Death, but I don’t seem to have a choice in the matter. “It’s not like I’m giving him away, Axel.”

 

He nods his head in consent. His expression doesn’t change. “Maybe he just needs a fight from your end.”

 

I have to stare at my toes at that. The nails there could use a trim. “I’m dying in three days.” God… three days. _Three days already?_ Ugh, I don’t know if I can think about that right now. It might just be too much.

 

Axel pulls back, and his grin is positively crooked. I can almost envision him as some sort of drug dealer. God, if he had ever lived a human life, I wonder what it was as? Probably not something as bad as crime, though. I mean, you can’t get promoted to a position like that if you do bad things, right? I’m thinking about this too much.

 

“I said to enjoy the time you have left, and I meant it,” he says. The way he’s talking to me now is reminiscent of two people that have been friends since high school. Almost as if he’s letting me in on some dirty little secret. “Besides, even if you rekindle long lost love between you, when you die, he can just turn to Roxas for comfort.”

 

…What?

 

My jaw’s hanging open. I snap it shut and pivot, folding my arms. The _nerve_! What kind of thing is that to say to me, anyway? How God damn _mean_ can one possibly get? I mean, I know they say that Death has a cruel sense of humor, but… I would never have expected that I would have to take it so literally.

 

“ _Or_ ,” he mutters. I feel him approaching me. His lips are close to my ear, his breath caressing over the hairs just behind it when he continues, “You can make sure that he never goes back to Roxas again.”

 

“I love my brother.” My voice is a whisper—I’m surprised at the resolve I hear in it. “And besides, I’m already going to hell. I don’t need to make my punishment worse.”

 

His fingers are curling over my shoulder, and his voice is a soft, subtle purr. “You’d just be looking out for yourself.”

 

 _It’s true_ , that tiny voice of reason speaks up.

I squash it and look over my shoulder at my unwanted companion. “I’ve been looking out for myself all this time. Maybe it’s time I start thinking about someone else for once.”

 

I’m half-expecting him to grow angry. But before he disappears, what is on his lips is only—a smile. A wide smile that touches his eyes and makes them glow brighter.

 

Sighing, I replace the glass I’m still holding on the counter. I keep my fingers on the rim and purse my lips. I’m mulling over what Axel said to me—wondering at the appeal. Yes, it would be so easy to just blot Roxas out of Riku’s life. Hell, I’ve done it before. I stole him out from under Roxas’s nose and kept him all to myself. We were happy that way. Roxas suffered, but I had always thought _So what?_ My happiness was what mattered.

 

I think of the happiness I put in the trash every day in the form of white little pills.

 

 _Roxas,_ I think, _deserves him more than I do._

But I’m still so afraid to let Riku go.

_“And if it’s obvious you two are finished…”_

The plan. I have to stick with the plan.

 

I open the bathroom door, and it creaks because I do this so slowly I only start to see the bedroom inch by careful inch. When there’s enough of a view that I can spot Riku, I stop, peering out. He’s standing in front of the window like earlier this morning. One of his hands is on the wall. His other is clutching the phone. I’m going to take a wild leap and assume that it’s turned off. I’m kind of angry because I had wanted to hear that whole conversation with Roxas, but… we can’t always get what we want.

 

I’m learning that now.

 

Wetting my lips, I make my way out of the bathroom. My feet are silent on the hardwood as I come around the bed and place a hand on Riku’s shoulder from behind. He jumps. I’m already taking the phone out of his fingers and setting it on the window ledge. My smile is hesitant, but sincere.

 

Riku doesn’t return it, opting to look down. “What did you mean by you’re not planning on stealing him away from me, Sora?” He’s got this quiet air about him. I wouldn’t exactly say it was a type of threatening question—there’s not any animosity to it. I can’t really tell _what_ his mood is, actually.

 

“Well, I was just teasing.” I shrug and tuck my hands into my pockets. “You spend a lot of time with him lately, so…”

 

He is immediately defensive. He’s bristling like I stroked his metaphorical fur the wrong way. “Only because—”

 

I smile at him and tilt my head. “You need someone to talk to because I’m considerably lacking in that department.” He hesitates. “I know.”

 

Now he’s frowning.

 

I’m fighting to keep my smile in place, yet it’s slipping away from me so quickly. “I’ve got to take my meds, get a shower, and then head in to work. I stayed up late to finish the epilogue after I put together the tree, and I want Rinoa to get it.” Since she didn’t last time.

 

Riku nods his head. “All right.”

 

I watch him. The words I want to say are stuck in my throat. I want them to come out, I do—it’s not that I’m so much as afraid as… _terrified_ , I guess. Terrified of facing rejection. He’d been so cold to me last night and mostly indifferent with me today. The odds of him saying yes were stacked against me. But… But I still had to _try_. That was what this was about. Getting things in order so that I can move on from this world with no regrets.

 

Riku watches me back. His lashes lower as his brows draw down. He’s not yet frowning—he’s probably wondering what I’m thinking about. Why I’m watching him so intently.

 

I bring my smile back; I make it wide, welcoming. “You can tell me anything, you know,” I whisper. “Like how we used to.”

 

Riku leans down to kiss my forehead. A slow descent, but an appreciated one. My eyes flutter closed when his lips brush over my skin. As he’s retreating, just as slow-paced as before, I catch his lips with mine in a brief kiss. I like to think that it’s also tender. That’s what I’m trying to convey to him. Tenderness. Need. Want. Pure honesty.

 

It’s okay, Riku. It’s okay.

 

Or it will be.

 

He frowns and looks away. “I know.”

 

I bite my lower lip. I want to say something further, but… what is there, really, to say? I let him know what I wanted him to know, and—he knew what I wanted him to know, so…

 

“All right.”

 

Riku is staring out the window.

 

“I’m going to take a shower.”

 

He nods distractedly.

 

My fingers curl around his elbow and I take the plunge. “Want to take one with me?” With the way my heart is pounding so fast after I blurt it out, you would think that I have never showered with him before. Completely ridiculous, I know. We’ve enjoyed numerous occasions together beneath that hot spray of water, even if our last sessions have been seriously lacking. But still… what if he says no…? Can I handle it? I _think_ so, but—

 

He’s surprised. I can see it now; it’s all over his face. Eyebrows that rise to his hairline and then lower over the bridge of his nose. A slight widening of the eyes.

 

The smile on my mouth has yet to leave, although it’s beginning to waver again.

 

And then—

 

He smiles back.

 

“Okay,” he says.

 

My heart skips. I stare up at him for a moment. There is no rejection in those green irises, only a shared delight. For me, this moment has the equivalent of asking your date to come upstairs with you and having him follow without making excuses. That joyous and disbelieving feeling that he _actually said yes_.

 

Does Riku still want me, too?

 

I swallow hard. “Okay.”

 

I tug at his elbow to lead him toward the bathroom. We giggle between ourselves like two high schoolers on the way. My cheeks are warm, so I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. Riku’s eyes are shyly diverting themselves as he pulls off my nightshirt. There, across his nose, is a line of perfect pink.

 

It doesn’t take us long to undress one another. After all, I’d only been wearing pajamas. Okay, so it was longer for me to get Riku undressed than the other way around, but who’s keeping track? Besides… I love unbuttoning his shirt after I’ve tossed that black sweater to the side. I get to admire all that pale skin and run my fingertips across his muscles as I breathe kisses to his throat. Who _wouldn’t_ want to be in my position?

 

The dip of his hips into his slacks is beautiful. Maybe even godly. I’ll go so far as to say worthy of worship. I can’t believe that I’ve let myself ignore the things that I love most about his body for weeks now. Riku has always been perfect to me. Sweet if not arrogant. Understanding. Caring. Attentive. I still remember when he used to whisper into my ear all these little nothings until I fell asleep to the sound of his voice. His fingers would be stroking along my arm the entire time.

 

We stumble a bit as my arms wrap around his neck and he searches my mouth for kisses. The awkwardness from the day before is gone. I’m not sad to see it go.

 

His mouth is familiar, but new. We’re playing an old game that we haven’t in a while. Where you’ve forgotten most of what you had to do, but once you get going, all the pieces start falling back into place and you _remember_. And you appreciate it more _because_ you remember.

 

Riku uses his foot to shut the door behind him.

 

I smile against his mouth, and he smiles back.

 

“I love you,” I murmur.

 

He plants kisses behind my ear. “I love you, too.”

 

And for right now, that’s all that I need to hear.

 

* * *

 

I rub my loofa over Riku’s chest, and I make sure that I don’t miss an inch of it. To be honest, I can’t… really remember the last time that I saw Riku’s chest so bared to me. I mean—I’ve seen it. But I haven’t _seen_ it. In a way, it’s like this is another one of our firsts, but it’s much better than a first because it has that added comfort that we’ve both been down this route before. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t exchange it for anything in the world.

 

Not even to have my life back.

 

I guess that’s what is making this whole thing so— _there_ for me. This will be one of the last times that I get to admire Riku like this. That I get to hold him close, scrubbing shampoo into his scalp as he runs his soapy fingers over my ribs. I laugh at that, by the way. I’m very ticklish. Riku’s always been the first person to exploit it. He once told me that he thought my giggle when I was being tickled was one of the cutest sounds on earth. How unmanly is that, right? Yet—in moments like these, when I recall that sort of thing—who cares how manly it is? Who the fuck cares. It was a compliment made out of love.

 

I’ve always read too deeply into things. This is one of the reasons that a wedge was driven between us. I see it. Riku sees it. So why can’t I just not be defensive? Why can’t I just stop reading into everything? I want to. I _really_ want to. Especially now, when there’s like two and a half days left on my life…

 

God.

 

I’m never going to get to see Riku ever again.

 

He places his lips against mine. He’s still smiling. His smile is rare outside the two of us. In fact, I’m surprised that he’s smiled so much in the last day. They’re not those broad smiles that people get. He doesn’t even grin much, for that matter. His mouth just… there’s a faint pull of one side of his mouth that isn’t at all a smirk. And his eyes light up just a little bit—and there it is. That rare, priceless gem.

 

Oh, fuck. Why was I so quick to throw this away the first time?

 

I think of the picture and I know why. I remember. But this is supposed to be my second chance. My chance to enjoy things while they last, to make amends. Axel’s right, I should be taking advantage of every moment of it. I guess I just—I know that I’ll be leaving soon. So soon. And Riku isn’t even aware of it. It will _crush him_ —if he still loves me—to fix things with me, and then… I take my life. I die right in his arms all over again.

 

Riku pushes me against the wall. I’m out of the range of the shower spray now. The shower wall is cool against my back, not to mention wet. Riku’s mouth attacks mine with less and less patience, his tongue plundering the depths. I slip my arms around his neck to draw him closer. My thigh rubs against his. His rubs back, a long, slow line of skin that drags against mine. When I shiver, he moans.

 

Riku moaning.

 

I thought I’d never hear that again.

 

And the heat of his body against mine is threatening to suffocate me sweetly.

 

I let it.

 

It envelops us. His nails are scraping down my back. His thumbs dig into the indentions of my hips. His teeth sink into my neck. I brace one hand against the shower wall and tilt my head back. My brows draw down over my nose, and my breathing quickens to the point where I think my heart might burst. I am using my other hand to grip onto Riku’s bicep—my nails are making grooves in the pale skin stretched over the muscle there.

 

Let it be known that I was never a big fan of foreplay. I have always wanted to dive right into the part where Riku fucks me senseless. Crude, yeah. But _so, so_ good. And today? Riku is seriously making me reconsider my past rushed attempts to get the foreplay bits over and done with. He’s always told me that he wants to admire my body, be closer to me before we connect on that ultimate level. I’ve always told him that he’s an unexpected sissy when it comes to sex.

 

I regret that now. Because this intimacy that he’s showing me at this very moment—I will always, _always_ remember it.

 

And I’m going to need it in the eternity that follows my death.

 

Riku’s fingertips run up the length of my cock before they swirl over the head of it in feather light touches. I shiver so hard I have to squeeze my eyes shut as fire leaps straight to my groin. If I wasn’t completely hard before, I’m definitely getting there now. I try to recall the last time he touched me like this and nothing comes to mind. Oh, God, Riku—has it really been that long between us?

 

A tunnel of warm fingers forms around me. Though it’s awkward standing like this in the tub with barely any room to move my feet—and it won’t be fun if my knees give out, because there’s no where nice to land… I don’t care. Groaning so loud the sound vibrates in my chest, I jerk my hips forward to seek out more of that careful pressure. Riku allows it to return, but only in slightly firmer measurements.

 

He has me gritting my teeth in a space of a minute. Sweat is breaking out along my brow. God damn, he’s _teasing_ me! He knows I can barely take something like this. Hell, _he_ can barely take the same treatment. So why is he having so much fun doing this to me? Hasn’t he heard of the golden rule? But oh my _God_ —who the fuck cares—his thumb is circling in sinful designs over the tip of my arousal, and it feels so… s-s-so… nn, fuck…

 

Shit, my legs just gave out on me, but it’s okay, Riku’s caught me. He chuckles in my ear, a low sound that stirs the heat further. I think I’m trembling. I can’t be too sure. After all, it’s been a while since I experienced anything like this. Combine that with the intensity of the emotions I’m feeling for my boyfriend right now and—you’ve got some very crippling stuff in your hands. Oh, damn, oh, damn, oh, damn… what if this is the last time that we…?

 

Riku’s fingers work at me again. I want to punch him in the shoulder because he’s still on the too much of a teasing level, but this urge is also vying for pushing _him_ against the wall. Both ideas seem appealing. I have my hand halfway to his cock before he takes my hand and twines our fingers together, pushing them back against the wall. Okay, fine, buddy, none for y—you… shit…

 

I claw at his back and bite into his shoulder. I’m probably hurting him. This is the last thing on my mind. All that I can afford to think about right now is the explosive energy building, building, building—and any moment, any God damn moment, it’s going to… to… fucking _hell_ …! Soon, so soon—

 

H-H-Haa…

 

A scream tears itself from my throat. Well, maybe it’s more of a yell. Either way, I sag against him with tears in my eyes, but I’m not sad. Just happy. Thrumming with—with—satiation. God, when’s the last time I orgasmed? Who cares. It can’t have been better than the one I had just now.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

Note the emphasis. That’s not a “Fuck, I just screwed myself over” or a “Fuck, I stubbed my toe on the couch peg.” It’s a, “Fuck, that’s so good can I just please die right now and be happy and oh _fucking hell_ …”

 

I want to sleep. Sleep would be good.

 

Riku spins me around. My mind is also spinning so I comply. He breathes kisses to my shoulders that feel like a butterfly’s wings, ticklish but sensual. I laugh, breathless with renewed desire. He’s going to get me hard again—hell, he already is, and it kind of hurts a little because I’m so sensitive down there now, but… Riku needs to get his, and a round of sex with him before I—before I—when I don’t even know if—

 

My hands grab onto the ledges of the tub. I’m bent over at the waist now so that Riku can get easy access to what we both want. Fuck, this is probably going to hurt because… well, because it’s been a while, but I don’t care. I’m still buzzed from the high of that orgasm, and once things get going, it’ll be even better. I can’t ask for more than this—I don’t _want_ to. This, right now, right here—this is what I want most for us.

 

His presence leaves me for a moment and then returns. He was probably grabbing lube. My suspicions are confirmed when I feel two fingers delicately run down to the ring of muscle he has to get past and pause. He’s waiting for my permission, and the way he lingers shows signs of hesitance. Is he as unsure of this as I was earlier?

 

I raise myself a little higher so that I can push back against his fingertips.

 

Please?

 

We take our time. He doesn’t rush me, and I’m glad for that. Then again, thinking back on it—he’s _never_ rushed me. I’ve always rushed him. Well, not now. I’m going to let it be _his_ show for once. Besides, I’m not ready for our time together like this to be over, either.

 

It burns. Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ it burns. I don’t care. Don’t care, don’t care. It’ll all be over soon. That’s what he’s cooing in my ear, and that’s what I’m repeating in my head. It’s easier to focus on the brush of his lips against my neck than the stretching of his fingers inside of me when I remind myself that I’m here to _enjoy_ this.

 

“It’s okay, Sora, it’s okay. I love you, I _love you_ …”

 

People can throw that expression around like it’s a common greeting when sex is involved, but… there’s meaning behind the words here. I know that I have reason not to believe him—hell, I have _plenty_ of stuff to throw back in his face. But that’s not what I want to spend my last few days doing. Not at all.

 

He’s entering me.

 

Slow…ly… Every—every inch… bit by bit… sinking into me… A pause—I breathe hard through my nose—my heart pounds against my chest like a drum—my cock twitches—and then… again… so care… carefully… Fuck, fuck, can’t keep my eyes open, have to shut them, it hurts, it hurts—the press of his abs against my ass—my knuckles are making my skin flare white as I tighten my grip on the edges of the tub—and I know.

 

I _know_.

 

I love him.

 

He pulls back out without any warning. I want to scream, but I bite it back. This is the way we play the game here. This is what I like. This is what he likes.

 

In again. Unrelentingly quick until he’s sunk back in to the hilt. I bow my back and stomp my foot several times against the tub floor. It hurts, but it doesn’t. I can’t describe it. I don’t think anyone accurately can. Not this part—not the part where you think you’re being torn in two but find some sort of perverse happiness in it—some perverse _pleasure_. We’re not just making love, you see.

 

We’re fucking.

 

“Oh, God, Oh, God,” Riku says in a near whimper, almost stuttering over the words. “So tight…”

 

He starts his rhythm this way. He doesn’t ask me if I want him to slow down and I don’t tell him to. This has always been an unspoken agreement of ours. As long as I don’t voice a complaint about what it is he’s doing, he won’t ask permission to do what it is he’s doing. I love having that type of understanding with him. I think he loves it, too.

 

His hands wrapped around my hips are heaven. He’s gripping onto them and using them to pull me back against him as he pounds into me. This slight show of possession is magnificent, and so is feeling every inch of him inside of me. Maybe it’s dirty to have sex this way. I don’t think it is. I wouldn’t care if it is. It’s what we like. What we love. Fuck everybody else. Besides—

 

“Feet flat on the floor, Sora.”

 

Riku’s voice is hoarse. When he angles up on his next thrust, I know he’s close. Since it’s been a while, there’s a few attempts to hit my prostate before he achieves his goal. A yell drags itself from my throat—I think I’m seeing stars—definitely some flashes of red and white—

 

“S-Sora…” he pants. He shifts his grip on my hips. I admire the fact that he’s not slowing much since he started driving himself into me. Riku has a really strong endurance, one that I’ve always been thankful for. Especially since it enables amazing things to be done to my body. Like… this… oh, my, _God_ —much more of this, and I…

 

I’m drowning. I might burst out of my skin at any moment now. This is almost too damn much. His dick is—nnn, _fuck_. I don’t know if I can stand on my feet much longer.

 

“Gonna—gonna c-come, Sora…”

 

My eyes roll back into my head at that. I give him the most encouraging groan I can muster because words are not enough. I doubt I could come up with anything to say, anyway. I’m too far gone.

 

Heat fills me in a rush of cum.

 

Riku thrusts—thrusts—thrusts—thrusts… and stops.

 

When he pulls out of me, I feel like he took a piece of my soul with him. Let him have it. It’ll probably be more painful for him in the days to come, but… I want him to have this moment just like I will. I want us to both be able to keep this in our hearts, not just me. Can you do that for me, Riku? Can you remember me like this and not someone that you can’t stand to be around?

 

He turns me around to face him. The water is like ice around our toes. He buries his face in my neck and I rub my hands in soothing circles over his back, although I can barely stand myself. I could go to sleep now. I really could.

 

He kisses my shoulder.

 

I nuzzle my nose into his hair and I hold him closer and I pray.

 

_Please don’t hate me when this is all over._

_Please cry for me._

* * *

 

After pouring soap along the water so that it kills the mess we left in it, Riku and I take turns toweling each other off. Neither of us can really stop grinning. I bet we look really dorky, haha. But—it’s sweet. Seeing Riku smile at me like this. I thought he’d forgotten how to.

 

I attack his hair with a towel as he sits on the toilet seat so that I can have easier access. His fingers play along the backs of my knees, and I jerk them forward. Damn it. It sucks being this ticklish, and my look for him is a sharp reprimand. He smiles up at me, all perfect innocence. Look, Sora, isn’t my shining halo so pretty? Ah, but Riku—it’s a little crooked, here, let me straighten it for you…

 

“Ow, my nose!” Riku laughs. “What was _that_ for?”

 

“Don’t _do_ that! You know I’m ticklish.” I wave my fingers menacingly. “Or else your nose’ll get tweaked again, bucko.”

 

He rests his forehead on my stomach when I pull the towel away. His hair is a rumpled mess of silver, and what’s not tangled sticks to his neck and shoulders. People probably think he really needs a haircut, but I’ve always admired the long strands. He can get away with it at work because he pulls it back out of the way. I think it’s just because he’s so pretty that Riku always gets what he wants, even from the high-ups. Must be nice to look so gorgeous.

 

“I have to go soon,” I hear myself murmuring. I play with a strand of his hair that’s sticking up out of the rest and twirl it around my fingertip.

 

Riku kisses the inside of my wrist. “To work?”

 

I open my mouth but hesitate. There’s so… so much I want to say right now, but I can’t bring myself to. That unspoken rule lingers at the back of my mind. In my head, I can see an image of Axel as he holds out his hand to me, his green eyes ominous and carrying every sign of a threat if I don’t cooperate with what he wants. On the one hand, it would be so easy to tell Riku that this is probably the last time we’ll get to have together—like this—like what just transpired in the shower.

 

On the other hand…

 

My hand drops from his hair and I find myself smiling.

 

“Yeah. To work.”

 

We linger a bit in the doorway. My truck keys are in my hand. Riku is kissing my jaw in slow, tender movements. He’s got me pressed against the doorframe. All the heat from inside the house is escaping to the outside and the snow there. Neither of us pays it any mind. He’s too distracted in showering me with affection, and likewise, I’m too distracted reveling in every moment of it. I don’t want to go to work.

 

Okay, so—I won’t be gone for too long, but… I don’t want to part with Riku. The mere thought of it is absolutely painful, like I’ll be giving a piece of myself away. Another piece. An important piece that I need.

 

“Do you love me?” I whisper.

 

“So much, Sora,” he breathes into my hair. “So much.”

 

_Did he ask you the same thing?_

_Did you say it back?_

The words rise like bile in my throat. I swallow them back. Now’s not the time. Later, maybe, but not now. I just want to be selfish for a little while longer. Axel’s right, I only have a couple of days left, and the clock is steadily ticking. I’m not going to spend the whole of it pining after Riku, no. I’m going to stick to my guns and carry through with my original plan. Right now, though… right now, Axel _is_ right.

 

I can afford to have a few minutes more of selfishness.

 

“So what are you going to do while I’m gone?” I ask to shift my thoughts to lighter subject matter.

 

“I’ll just probably be hanging around the house until you get back.” He rests his forehead on mine, smiling, and tugs at the tails of my scarf.

 

“Okay.” I tilt my head up to kiss him. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours tops.”

 

He returns the kiss before stepping away to give me room to exit. “Okay,” he agrees. “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.” I wave the hand that’s holding my keychain, and the keys jingle together in merry chimes.

 

The snow crunches beneath my boots. By the time I’m to my truck, there’s clumps of flakes gathered along the tops. Snow. Ah, snow. There’s definitely not snow where _I’m_ going.

 

I know Riku’s watching me, so I don’t linger. What I really want to do is rest my forehead against my window and just sigh exhaustedly and have a moment to think about my impending doom. An eternity in hell. How could I have been so damn _stupid_? But sticking around here isn’t going to accomplish anything, and Riku _is_ watching, so I climb into the truck cab. My baby stutters to life, purrs. We’re good to go.

 

Riku waves at me from the doorway. I wait until I’m mostly out into the road before I wave back. Then I get going towards the city.

 

I keep the radio turned off. I want to listen to my truck’s engine humming along. Besides, without all that noise coming from whatever station I flipped it to last, I have time to enjoy the memory of that moment with Riku in the shower. I can still feel his lips and his teeth on my neck, and I’m glad I’m wearing a turtleneck. The whole world doesn’t need to see the hickies that I’m sporting. I may be dying in less than three days, but I’ve still got a sense of _modesty_.

 

I don’t realize I’m crying until I laugh and the tears spill down my cheeks.

 

The salt on my lips never tasted so sweet.

 

* * *

 

Rinoa Leonheart is my editor. She is one of the most dedicated editors I’ve ever had, in fact. You see, we share a common interest in getting my manuscripts finished. Previous editors liked to breathe down my neck about how I better meet a certain deadline or our contract was null. With Rin, if I’m having difficulty meeting a deadline she’s set for me, she’ll call me up and ask me to take a walk with her. And on that walk, we’ll usually discuss whatever it is that’s preventing the flow of my inspiration from getting onto paper. And by the end of those walks? I’m ready to tackle my current manuscript again.

 

We have a good relationship. I know it, she knows it. She doesn’t rush me. She’s understanding. A bit teasing, but understanding. I don’t think that we’ve ever had to exchange some harsh words or anything. To me, she makes the perfect editor. I love that she has that much dedication in me. I’ve never let her know this, but… the least I can do this time around is make sure that she gets my epilogue in her hands.

 

Tying up loose ends is always hard. And sometimes you’ll miss a thread or two and won’t realize it until later, in which case you have to unwind what you’ve got bound and tie up everything all over again, but… the fruits of labor are often rewarding enough. Knowing that Rin will get her hands on the final part of my current manuscript brings a sense of peace to me. Like I said, I hadn’t really been thinking about it before.

 

_I’ve really got to stop thinking so much about me, me, me. Look at all the damage it’s caused._

 

I let myself in the door to her office without bothering to knock. The first thing I notice is that she’s got fresh flowers set in vases around the room. Most of them have balloons attached and prongs carrying cards. Rinoa’s nine months pregnant, so this isn’t so surprising. She’s due to pop in a few days. Another reason to get the manuscript in her hands—less for her to stress out about before the big day.

 

Rinoa is leaning against her desk, and she looks up when I enter the room. She was in the middle of laughing. The sound falls short when she sees me, but then her eyes light up. They’re big and brown and some of the friendliest that I’ve ever seen. Rinoa has this whole air around her that is completely energetic on a more mellow level (if that makes any sense), and though her smiles like to think themselves mischievous, rarely have her pranks gotten her into any harm.

 

She looks radiant. All pregnant women do. Before this, she was so skinny despite being around my height, and I’m pretty short. Now that she’s in her third trimester, her face has filled out so that her cheekbones don’t appear so hollow anymore. Not to mention the huge mound of her stomach. I’ve placed my hands on it several occasions before to feel the baby kick. It’s going to be a girl, by the way. Raine Leonhart. She told me that she and her husband were naming it after said husband’s deceased mother.

 

Come to think of it—I don’t think I’ve _ever_ met her husband. That must be him, though, that’s facing the window with his back turned to the room. I see unkempt brown hair brushing shoulder blades in layers and familiarity strikes me. The broad shoulders, the bomber jacket… Have I seen this before? Yes, I have—no one else I’ve met has an ass like _that_.

 

Oh, God.

 

The guy at the Christmas tree place is actually Squall, Rinoa’s husband?

 

I checked out my editor’s _husband_!

 

And I’m _still_ checking out my editor’s husband!

 

I look away. Damn, this is… embarrassing, to say the least.

 

“Sora, I’m glad that you could make it.” Rinoa’s voice is slightly breathy, not too high-pitched, not too low. It’s got this very pleasant lilt, actually, like birdsong.

 

“I _did_ call to say I’d be coming,” I remind her.

 

She smiles. “This is Squall, my husband.”

 

Man at the Window turns toward us. His eyes widen slightly when he sees me. Haha… go figure.

 

“Squall, this is Sora.” Rinoa gestures.

 

Squall comes around the desk to hold out his hand to me. His gray eyes are boring intently into mine. Damn, he’s kind of intimidating in a _very_ sexy way. Rinoa’s lucky she netted somebody like him. And whoa, why am I still thinking about this guy in ways that I don’t need to when he’s obviously off limits?

 

“I think we’ve met before—last night, in fact.”

 

My grin is probably sheepish. “Yeah. With the Christmas trees. I’m sorry that my brother mistook you for an employee…”

 

Squall shakes his head. Shaggy hair follows the movement. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

Rinoa is confused. She raises her face to Squall, her brows raising inquisitively. “Squall?” she prompts. “You saw him last night when you were getting a Christmas tree and didn’t bother to tell me?”

 

Though she has a wry smirk on her lips that is obviously meant to be teasing, Squall frowns at her. “Like I’d recognize some guy I’ve only ever heard you talk about, Rin…”

 

She laughs and pats his arm. “Anyway. Squall’s going to be editing your epilogue for me, Sora, as well as your project for the next six weeks. I’m going to be occupied with the baby, so I won’t really have time to help you.”

 

Wow, Squall’s an editor? News to me. Whatever, even if this little revelation _did_ bother me, it’s not like it would matter. I won’t be around for that “next project,” and it won’t matter who edits the epilogue in the end, either. No voiced opinions from Sora if he’s lying dead beneath some solid earth.

 

Man. I’m really getting morbid as the hours pass.

 

“Okay,” I say.

 

Rinoa rubs her hand over Squall’s back as he settles his hips to lean them against the desk beside her. He folds his arms. They’re both watching me, but Rinoa is the one who speaks next, “I know Squall _seems_ quiet, but he’s very good to have a conversation with if you’re ever feeling in an inspiration stump. He used to help me formulate ideas for my books all the time.”

 

Now how cute is that?

 

“He’s very good at giving his opinion on things if you ask him _very_ nicely,” Rinoa pauses to grin at Squall as he shoots her a look before continuing, “and if you aren’t wary of blunt honesty.”

 

I laugh despite myself. Rinoa’s good moods have always been infectious. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

We chat idly for the next few minutes until Rinoa hands me the numbers to reach them if I need anything at all. Apparently Rinoa’s acquired a new cell phone since yesterday (I called her office earlier to talk to her), and well, I obviously don’t have Squall’s. This would be handy if I was going to be alive to use them. Ah, well. The gesture is sweet, and there’s not much else that I can say to them about it.

 

When I leave, Rinoa is whispering a private joke into Squall’s ear. He’s leaned down a little bit to hear her better, and his smile is wry as she continues speaking. I can’t make out the whispers, but that’s okay.

 

I shut the door behind me.

 

Everyone else has someone to talk to.

 

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. In two and a half days, I won’t need anyone to talk to anymore, anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun is disappearing beneath the horizon. It’s so quick to disappear these days. I want to stay and enjoy the view, but the parking lot is nearly empty and I’ll just look creepy. Besides, I’m already getting the evil eye from this little old woman shuffling past. Amazing, considering most people tell me that I have “charisma.” Can’t win everyone over, I guess. Such is life.

 

I pull open the door to my truck and climb in. The seat is chilly from how long it’s been vacated, and I shiver. Good God, why does it have to be so damn _cold_ when the sun goes away? I know the answer to that, but _still_. My teeth are chattering as I push my trembling key into the ignition. I hope that my truck will be a good girl and behave like she’s supposed to. The last thing I need is to be broken down forty-five minutes away from home and have to wait out here in the damn cold until Riku comes to get me.

 

If I were going to be alive for much longer, I’d replace this damn thing.

 

Since I’m so distracted with fiddling with the truck for it to start, I don’t notice that I have company until I’m getting ready to reverse out of my parking spot.

 

Axel is leering at me.

 

I yelp, jumping straight out of my seat and almost bashing my brains out on the ceiling. Good fucking grief! My heart’s pounding so hard it’s like it’s ready to burst straight out of my chest. I settle slowly back into my seat and fasten my seatbelt, all the while giving my companion and evil glare. He just grins right back at me, sprawled along the passenger seat. His feet are crossed at the ankles on the dashboard, and his arm is slung over the headrest of his seat. His hot pink scythe is nowhere in sight.

 

“What do you want?” I grit out. I’m afraid if I raise my voice much louder, I’ll start yelling. I don’t want to yell at Death. Something tells me that that’s not such a wise idea.

 

His voice is a steady drawl as his eyebrow arches in mock amusement, “Such hostility, Sora. What did I ever do to you?”

 

Gee, maybe the fact that you’re going to take me to limbo in two days might have something to do with it.

 

I don’t say this out loud. Axel’s been gracious enough to me. After all, I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for him.

 

“I’m here because I came to remind you _yet again_ that you should be living like you’re never going to get the chance to again.” Axel lifts his gloved fingers and studies where his nails would be. “It’s not like you have all the time in the world here.”

 

“Why do you care so much? You said you were busy, yet you keep checking up on me, and the visits are getting more and more frequent.” God, why do I sound so hostile? He’s right. I need to tone it down. Maybe I’m just bitter because the pressure of the twenty-fourth is creeping nearer and nearer and Axel is the only one who knows about it, so he’s the only one I can properly take it out on. Except—I can’t, not if I don’t want to mess around with a situation that’s already sticky as it is.

 

“Weeeeeell,” Axel purrs. He pulls his legs down from the dash and leans across the seat, his hands finding purchase on the middle glove compartment. His green eyes are glowing in the near dark. Is it just my imagination, or has he always had those tattoos just beneath his eyes? They’re shaped like tear drops… “You’re like my personal little project at the moment. I want to know that it’s going to go smooth sailing.”

 

A hint of alarm trickles through me, starting at the base of my skull and moving like icy liquid down my spine. “I thought you were going to get in trouble once the high-ups found out that you’re helping me.”

 

Axel’s smirk is familiar. Too familiar.

 

He’s gone before I can question it.

 

I sigh and scrub my hands through my hair.

 

Just who am I dealing with?

 

* * *

 

The house is silent, or at least the portion I just stepped in is.

 

I close the door to the mudroom behind me and peel off my boots. Clumps of snow hit the rug, along with a few dark spots of mud. Nothing too serious, though. That snow is getting packed down out there, so there’s not much earth to work with. I guess that’s a good thing. Riku despises muddy tracks.

 

Speaking of Riku… He’s slumped over the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee. The TV is on. Images of a scientist in a laboratory flicker across the screen, along with some sort of experiment the guy is working on. Discovery Channel’s logo is at the bottom. They must have found something again. I can’t really catch what they’re saying or else I’d get a general idea. Oh, well.

 

I come up behind my boyfriend. My hands find his shoulders. I’m surprised to find them so tense. When I begin to knead into them, he leans back into my touch and sighs appreciatively. I’m surprised I’m still good at massages. I haven’t done one in months. Well, as long as Riku’s enjoying himself, I guess that’s all that matters, isn’t it?

 

“Did you talk to your parents again?” I inquire to break the silence. There’s too much of it. Words—we need to talk. Talk while we still have time.

 

“Briefly, but nothing special happened.” Riku rolls his shoulders up into my hands, and a deep groan resonates in his throat. He drops his head forward. I imagine that his eyes are closed and that his lips are slightly parted as he concentrates on the feeling of me working the knots of tension out of his body.

 

“No?”

 

“Mom was just complaining about how much it’s going to cost to fix everything.”

 

I stop the massage and smile before I lower my face into his hair. I inhale deep. The shampoo I scrubbed into his hair for him earlier smells so sweet. And beneath that, just Riku. Why did I neglect him so much before? Why does anybody neglect the person they’ve been with for what seems like forever? All I know is that right now, I want to rectify that. I want to make sure he knows that I appreciate him so much.

 

Riku’s voice comes to my ears in a quiet whisper. “I’ve missed you…”

 

I pause. At first, I’m not sure what to say to that. The words touch my heart more than I had initially thought they would. Tears prick at my eyes, but I hold them at bay. Not now. I won’t cry right now. I need to be strong.

 

My lips find the crown of his head in a kiss. “I’ve missed you, too.”

 

I slide my arms around his neck and hold him close to me. He doesn’t complain or struggle. His head just finds the crook of my neck and stays there. We watch the TV, but I doubt either of us are really seeing it. We’re more wrapped up in the thought of each other to pay much attention to anything else.

 

I wish that it could stay this way, but Axel’s right.

 

I’m not getting any third chances.


	4. There's Nothing Like Regret

Sometimes we find that no matter how hard we try, the things that matter most to us still slip away.

 

I want things to be perfect. I always have.

 

But the more I hold on to something—the more it becomes so eager to be free. I guess my love just smothers things. It’s a slow, quiet death for them. I’m not sure which I’d prefer. For it not to hurt? Yet I find myself lacking the strength to just let go. I squeeze and I tear desperately at them until they’re swallowed up by the tide of my anger, and my jealousy, and all my many, many fears.

 

Then they sink under, and eventually, they drown.

 

I haven’t spoken to my parents in years. I estranged myself from them. I feared they couldn’t accept me for who I was, and before they even gave me a chance, I let all the black feelings in my heart sever our bonds. It didn’t even hurt much, at the time. I suppose that when the time finally came, the thread had been worn so thin that all it took was a careful snip. And slowly, they’d faded beneath the waves.

 

No phone calls. No letters. No visits.

 

People can only hold on so long before their fingers lose their grasp and slip, bruised and bloodied from fighting to stay.

 

Riku was next.

 

I don’t know if I resent him more or myself.

 

In the wee hours of the morning, as I lay curled up on the windowsill watching the snow slowly fall outside to form a fresh white blanket on the ground, I ponder this.

 

Was Axel right? Should I just take Riku for myself, screw the consequences, who cares what Roxas thinks or feels? I only have so many days, don’t I? Might as well enjoy them while I can.

 

But what will happen after I’m gone?

 

Who will Riku have to fall back on? Will Roxas still be there for him if he gives up Roxas while I’m still alive? Will Roxas want anything to do with him anymore? Or will he feel pity and take Riku back into his arms to comfort him and then more?

 

I just can’t tell.

 

I love Riku.

 

I love him so much it hurts to breathe.

 

But now I’m wondering if I love him enough to let him go.

 

* * *

 

I’m enjoying a caramel macchiato with whipped cream when Squall arrives. My feet are propped up on the chair beside me, and I have an elbow on the table. I haven’t bothered to take off the fur-rimmed Charlie Brown trapper Riku bought me last year, and my scarf is loose around my neck. I removed my jacket shortly after my arrival, however. It’s toasty in the café I agreed to meet my temporary editor at.

 

He looks like death himself.

 

Or maybe not, considering I’ve seen Death, and they are hardly identical.

 

Squall doesn’t even bother dusting the snow from his hair as he settles across from me, his leather jacket creaking. I see that he bothered to put on a scarf, as well, but his hair can’t have seen a brush this morning. Not that I’m able to throw stones—there’s a reason my trapper is still on my head.

 

“Mornin’.” I wave cheerfully.

 

He grunts.

 

“Want anything?”

 

The bags under his eyes indicate that he probably needs a healthy dose of sleep, but he doesn’t say so. He just rubs his eyes tiredly and then lets out an exhausted sigh, placing his forearms over the table.

 

“Sora,” he says after a long moment. He almost fell asleep in the silence. His voice is thick with the desperate desire to curl back up in bed. “…It’s six in the morning.”

 

I flick my wrist up, only to belatedly realize I’m not wearing my watch. Squall isn’t the only one who stumbled out of bed half-asleep, though I suspected that his had been a recent stumble. I was up at two.

 

My gaze darts over to the clock on the wall, and I nod, satisfied, sinking back into my chair. “Six o’ _three_ , actually.”

 

“Whatever.” He keeps rubbing his eyes.

 

“I take it you want to know what you’re doing here.” If I was in Squall’s shoes and listening to how perky I sound, I’d shoot myself. Fortunately I’m not Squall, so I just drum my fingers over the table. I answer my own question before he can. “I have a dilemma for my new manuscript.”

 

I slide the manila folder with its papers and the pen resting lightly on its surface over to him.

 

Awareness comes to those gray eyes, and Squall straightens his shoulders. He reaches for the folder, then slips it open, turning it to face him so he can read its contents. “…You’re working on it already?” Surprise colors his voice.

 

I wet my lips, suddenly nervous. “Yeah.”

 

Writing it wasn’t so difficult. I could pretend that it wasn’t… well. That what went on in that story was totally fictional. It hadn’t been hard to distance myself from the keyboard. Now, though, when I know Squall is going to ask for a run-down, the words get tied up in my throat.

 

Using a story as a pretense for myself in order to get advice is so tacky.

 

But it’s all I got left, okay?

 

Squall takes a few moments to read over what I handed him. In the meantime, I take careful swallows of my treat, letting my eyes survey the rest of the café. No one else is here yet, but cars are pulling up outside. People want their fix before they head off to work and wherever else. I’m just glad I have the option to sleep in.

 

When Riku first began his current job, I thought for sure he’d take up the habit of drinking coffee. Long hours, strenuous research, loss of sleep. Surely that required a need of caffeine? But Riku’s love for coffee stayed the same—a cup in the morning, maybe, if he felt like making it. Nothing more. He invests in energy drinks for staying awake. Whatever floats his best, I guess.

 

Sometimes I privately feel that he doesn’t want to join the line of addicts too lazy or too in a rush to make their own coffee currently trailing from the counter to the doors.

 

The hiss of steaming milk fills my ears, and I bite my lip.

 

Time for another day of life for all these people milling sleepily around.

 

Including today, I have two days left. In less than forty-eight hours, I won’t be able to sit like this at a coffee shop, watching all these people.

 

I’ll be buried in cold, hard earth.

 

“This is… different from your usual work, Sora.”

 

Squall’s voice draws me from my dark thoughts, and I perk up with a smile, lifting my eyebrows. My tone is purely calm, innocent. I’m tired of hurting people. I want them to be able to relax around me, even if they want to kill me for making them meet me here so early in the morning.

 

“Is it?”

 

“Hmm, yeah.” The man’s brows are drawn tight together in concentration as his eyes move over the typeface. “I mean, it’s just a few pages, of course, but already I can tell.” His hand gestures over the papers. His other must be resting on his lap. Slowly his fingers lift to one of those furrowed brows and scritch.

 

“Is it different in a bad way?”

 

“No.” He shakes his head, chestnut locks following the movement. “So Shinji hasn’t spoken to his parents in five years?”

 

“No.”

 

“And he wants to again?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And he wants to take Hiroki with him.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I assume… what, some family drama is going to ensue?” Squall closes the folder, but his tone isn’t derisive, merely contemplative. “Romantic family adventures usually aren’t your genre.”

 

I wince at that. He has a point. “I know. But this time I want to try something different.”

 

“Just tell me where you’re taking it.” More awake now, he leans back in his chair just as I have done and folds his arms. I wonder if I should ask him if he wants a coffee and quickly dismiss the notion. Squall seems like the type who, if he wants a coffee, he’ll get himself a coffee. Period.

 

“Well.” I arrange myself more comfortably in my seat, pulling my legs down from the chair they occupy. “Let’s see… Shinji is mostly in a dilemma because Hiroki, his boyfriend, is secretly having an affair with Shinji’s brother Aoi.”

 

“Mmm. An affair, huh?”

 

“Yeah. But Shinji, until this Christmas, has always sort of been a real asshole. But he wants to change things this time around, because he’s realizing what, er… what all he’s losing.” I spread my hands as I talk. It’s kinda difficult to not mention the whole “Oh, and he’s turning over a new leaf because he’s going to _die_ ,” but I don’t want to invoke Axel’s wrath. I have a feeling that that will not go over well at _all_. 

 

“Uh huh.” Squall has pulled a pen and a paper from somewhere and is jotting down what I assume is notes.

 

I pause for a moment, suddenly awkward. Rinoa had never done this to me.

 

Squall lifts his eyes when he notices that I’m quiet. A brow arches, and he gestures with the hand that holds his pen. “Continue?”

 

“…Well.” I clear my throat, deciding to take it all in stride. This is my grand idea—might as well follow through with it. “But now he’s sort of starting to see—whereas at first he had been angry—why Hiroki might have gone to Aoi. After all, why would Hiroki want to be with a real jerk, right?”

 

“So as he’s ‘bettering’ himself, he begins to realize that maybe Hiroki is better off with Aoi?” Squall mutters to himself. Scribble scribble scribble. He dots a few I’s. Crosses some T’s.

 

Annoyance flickers inside of me. “I didn’t say that. I didn’t say Riku would be better off with—”

 

Gray eyes focus on me sharply. “Riku? I thought you said his name was Hiroki.”

 

Oh.

 

God damn it.

 

My face is turning red, radiating heat. My ears, too, but he can’t see those, thank God.

 

God, this is so embarrassing. I didn’t mean to slip like that.

 

And now I’ve paused too long, so I can’t make a recovery.

 

Squall sighs and sets his pen and paper on the table before he leans back in his chair and fixes me with a knowing look. “This isn’t about some guys named Shinji and Hiroki, is it?”

 

“No… not… not exactly…” I’ve never felt so small in my entire life, and I sound about that tiny.

 

He stands. “Let’s go.”

 

I blink at that and rise almost without thought, drink in hand. “Where?”

 

“Where I used to go with Rinoa when she needed ‘inspiration.’”

 

* * *

 

I grip onto the reigns of my horse almost desperately, panic seizing tight in my heart. The last time I was on a horse, I was… what? Seven, eight? I can barely how to remember to ride as it is, and now Squall has me trailing beside him down the cleared paths.

 

Apparently he knows a friend of a friend who owns a horse ranch.

 

Goodie for me.

 

“Squall,” I call out to him. He’s gotten ahead of me again. I lean over my horse as he trots forward, and I lower my hands and the reigns they hold to the harness. “Squall, wait!”

 

He glances over his shoulder to spot me getting further and further behind. Especially further behind, because my horse stops entirely on the trail, and Squall’s is still going.

 

The man snorts in amusement and turns his black stallion around to come back to me, hopefully to rescue. Instead, however, I receive a lecture.

 

“I thought you said you knew how to ride.”

 

A pitiful mixture of a sigh and a whimper escapes me. “You never let me finish the sentence.”

 

“I assumed—”

 

“Don’t you know that assuming makes an ass out of u and me?”

 

When Squall’s eyes narrow, I let a sheepish grin cover my mouth. Well, it’s _true_. He shouldn’t have assumed. He took one glance at the stables, questioned me on my riding experience, heard, “Yeah, although—” and then began busying himself with saddling our horses up. Never mind that we’d just spent an hour driving out here to get to his friend of a friend who owned a stable’s place. Never mind that I’d barely had a chance to realize where we were.

 

The guy moves at his own pace, I’ll give him that. But he should slow down for others to catch up! Some of us aren’t quick on the uptake, especially when we haven’t gone horseback riding in almost two decades.

 

I mean, really.

 

At least he gave me the gentlest mare. She’s brown with a strip of white down her nose. There’s another white spot behind her left ear. And she is rather sweet. She at least had the decency to stop just a minute ago.

 

“Come on, Sora. Here.” Squall steers his horse around until we’re side by side again. He reaches over and grabs onto my reigns and holds them with his own, and I feel the horse move beneath my thighs again as we take off.

 

That’s much better.

 

I gaze out at our surroundings, growing quiet as I take everything in. The mountains bordering the horizon, covered in layers of snow and bare trees here and there. The evergreens remain ever in place, though, snow upon their boughs. There’s a thick cloud of gray just behind the peaks of the range. I’m giving it a couple of hours until it begins to snow. Hopefully we’ll be done with riding by then.

 

To my left are trees. There’s a sapling poking up in odd places, but it’s mostly pine, birch, and spruces. To my right—a nice little valley of snow, and then beyond the ring of that, another line of trees begin.

 

It’s rather beautiful out here. Breathtaking, even.

 

And infinitely quiet except for the occasional snort from one of the horses and my breath in my ears.

 

As I watch another stream of white come from my mouth, I lift my attention from the scenery to the man guiding us along the path.

 

“So you took Rin out here?”

 

“Hmm… Yeah.” Squall’s gray eyes flick in my direction. “It’s easier to think out here, away from the city.”

 

I nod. “I can see that.”

 

We ride in silence for another handful of moments.

 

Squall, surprisingly, is the first to break it again, as he had in the coffee shop. “Who’s Hiroki—this… Riku person? Who is he?”

 

Something in my heart twists to the point of pain. This isn’t a subject I want to discuss, but I started this whole shebang. And I was the one who slipped. Time to clean up my mess.

 

“My boyfriend.”

 

“And Aoi?”

 

The vise on my heart tightens. It’s becoming troublesome to breathe. “My brother.”

 

“And Shinji?”

 

I take the longest time to answer then, keeping my gaze strictly on the horizon. I don’t want to answer. If I answer, it’ll slot everything into place, even though he already knows. And I’ve yet to talk about this to anyone—with their true names in tact, that is. I don’t relish the thought of it. This is going to hurt. So bad.

 

But I need advice. It’s the whole reason Squall’s here in the first place.

 

I suck in my pride and look back to him. “Shinji is me.”

 

“And you haven’t seen your parents in five years.”

 

I close my eyes and shake my head. “No.”

 

“And you’re a jerk, and Riku is having an affair with your brother because of it.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

That’s exactly how I summed it up earlier, at least.

 

I sigh and scrub a hand over my face before quickly lowering it back to the saddle. I need something to grip onto for support, or else the world kind of moves in an alarming fashion. Ugh, horseback riding. Now I’m reminded of why I haven’t done it in two decades. I wonder if I have a very sensitive stomach or something—motion sickness. But with horses? Or maybe a fear of heights?

 

I think of the balcony I threw myself off and chuckle beneath my breath. Heights hadn’t mattered then.

 

“I just don’t know what to do,” I hear myself saying.

 

“Well…” Squall trails off into silence. I get the feeling I’ve made him awkward.

 

“No, I’m sorry. That wasn’t supposed to be where you say, ‘Well, do this and this.’ It was just me musing out loud,” I clarify. I’d hate for him to think I’m just sort of pushing him into this whole mess without a gradual ease in. He doesn’t seem like the type that can be bombarded with someone else’s problems so straight-forwardly and take it so well.

 

Actually, he doesn’t seem like the type that wants to help with someone’s problems at all, but he’s the one who brought me out here. I’m going to go along with it, nothing else _to_ do. And if he blames me in the end—well… I guess I won’t fault him for it. My story is pretty drama-filled and not something people necessarily want to listen to. Not people like Squall, anyway—people absorbed in their own lives and their own happiness without wanting drama to mess that all up.

 

Not that that’s a bad thing. It’s not.

 

At least he’s out here listening to me. Before all of… this… I wouldn’t have even given him that much if our roles were reversed.

 

“Okay, then.”

 

“Yeah… um…” I lift a hand from the saddle again in order to scratch my gloved fingers awkwardly over the back of my neck. The cold on my exposed skin makes me flinch. “I just—I know I should confront him… or the both of them really. And say that I know their secret.”

 

Even if I wasn’t given evidence prior—even if I didn’t know what to look for—I think that they would have slipped eventually. They’re not hiding it so very well. You mention one or the other, and their opposite goes into panic overdrive.

 

“Okay,” Squall says slowly. “So what if you _do_ confront them—what then?”

 

I’m glad he’s going along with this. “I don’t know. I guess say that it’s okay if—if they feel that way for each other.” The words taste bitter on my tongue. I want to take them back immediately, but only because I’m being selfish and want Riku as my own.

 

“But will that make you happy?”

 

I hesitate for a long while after that, gathering my thoughts. Of course it won’t make me happy. But then, that’s… that’s a lie. On the surface, I’ll be miserable. One half of me, however, will be happy _for_ them… if that makes any sense. Happy for them in a bitter way. Happy for them in a “I’m trying to be happy for you because I know I don’t deserve him anymore” way.

 

And round and round do my thoughts go.

 

Argh.

 

“No. I mean, it’ll hurt, but—I know that Riku deserves better than me. And if that person is Roxas, then so be it, right? I love them both. And I want them both to be happy. I’ve been so selfish for so long that my happiness doesn’t really matter anymore.” It stings more than you can possibly know to say that. I’m just glad I have the strength to give Squall the sugar-coated version, the one with all the hearts and sparkles and selflessness.

 

Inside, I don’t feel like that at all.

 

It’s somber here. Dark. Self-pitying. Possessive. Grieving.

 

But accepting.

 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Squall guides us around the trail as it turns, and I watch more scenery flit past. He has his eyes directly ahead, a sort of distant glaze to them, as if he’s mulling everything over. Good, I guess. “Everyone’s happiness counts.”

 

“Well, they deserve more of it than I do.” Lots and lots more.

 

“Fair enough,” he agrees. “But how would you feel if they weren’t seeing each other behind your back anymore?”

 

“I—I…” I trail off, unsure of how to proceed. With the truth? “It would probably kill me.” Hell, it _had_ —and they hadn’t even known of my awareness of the situation. What would it be like to see them together instead of merely knowing that they hide it? Whatever, I won’t be around to see it. This isn’t something of a problem I should focus on. Unfortunately, I can’t tell Squall that without revealing all the plot pieces to this story, and that’s been forbidden to me.

 

“All right.” He was going along with this amiably well. “What makes you think that you can’t fix what’s between you and Riku?”

 

“It would take too much time. Time I don’t have.” Something easy to answer, at last.

 

“You’re going to think this sounds incredibly sappy…” Squall rubs a hand over his forehead, very pointedly not looking in my direction. Is he embarrassed? Now I’m curious. “But—someone once told me that if it’s love, there is no time limit.”

 

Someone? Rinoa? Sounds like something she’d say.

 

But I don’t know how to respond to it. I guess ordinarily I’d agree. I can’t now. I mean, I’m going to be gone very, very soon. How can I fight for Riku? How is that fair? I can’t even give him the full, proper amount of time it takes to patch that up. It’d take days, maybe weeks, maybe months. If he hadn’t already moved on from me into Roxas’s waiting arms, that is.

 

What we have now, Riku and I, we’re—it’s—it’s okay. It’s getting to the point where we can maybe, finally, start to trust one another again. And I say this lightly. In the long run? Yeah, not going to happen. I won’t be here, I…

 

“That same person,” Squall continues after a pause, and he pulls on his reigns to the right, “told me that love likes to throw obstacles at you. Do you give up when the going gets tough, or do you persevere because the person waiting on the other end is worth the struggle?”

 

“It’s too late for that.”

 

“If you’re saying it’s too late…” My companion finally looks at me, and there’s barely veiled sympathy in his eyes. I’m not sure I like that pity, so I break the hold of our gaze and look to the distant line of trees. “Then you don’t deserve him to begin with.”

 

That whole “fight for what’s yours,” Squall?

 

This is all good and well, but—how the hell can I apply it to my life when I won’t be here? When my situation is _beyond_ all of this? When I’ll be gone from this world? The rules don’t work here. They won’t ever. All the rules about life and love and—that—God damn— _bullshit_ , I want to say, when I know it’s not really—it doesn’t… it doesn’t mesh with what’s happening to me. It’s automatically null and void.

 

I remind myself that Squall doesn’t know the whole story, so the only advice he can give me is what he’d give others. Others who aren’t in my current predicament.

 

“What if I die tomorrow?” I ask impulsively. I lift my gaze from the scenery and back to him. He’s already watching me, one of his brows furrowed. “What if I try to make amends, and I somehow fix things between us—and then I die. How is that fair to him?”

 

“It’s not. But… who says you’re going to die tomorrow?”

 

I shake my head, the irony not lost on me. “I’m just being rhetorical.”

 

“We can’t predict the future, Sora. We never know what’s going to be thrown at us. If you die tomorrow after trying so hard to win back his heart, then… well, then that sucks. But that’s life, isn’t it? In the meantime, the two of you will get to have enjoyed what you had while it lasted. It might be painful if one of you is gone, but… the memories that you had beforehand… Aren’t those worth keeping?”

 

Wow, he actually spoke a paragraph’s worth of sentences. I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard out of him at once.

 

“You’re pretty wise, aren’t you?” I laugh to try and shake off the uneasiness his words have given me. He doesn’t know my situation, so his advice can’t possibly be all that useful, can it? Should I just ignore it, or should I listen to it? I don’t know.

 

Then why did I ask him for help in the first place? I’m not being fair, even to myself.

 

Do I _want_ to know I fail?

 

Does that make this all seem more real, when I constantly find ways to remind myself that I’m stuck, that this can’t be salvaged, that I’ve done this to myself, that I’m going to die?

 

“I had to learn the hard way that love is all about taking risks,” Squall says at last, the words quiet and thoughtful. “And that love— _real_ love—is worth it in the end, no matter what happens.”

 

Wind blows past now, and it’s carrying snow.

 

The storm is arriving sooner than I’d thought.

 

“Just think about what I said.”

 

* * *

 

The drive out to my parents’ house later near noon is a quiet one. Riku asked briefly where I’d been that morning, but he’d let it go once I told him I was meeting with my editor. He doesn’t need to know more than that. Besides, I’m still mulling over Squall’s advice. To take it or not…? A man like that doesn’t seem as if he bothers to offer such a thing lightly. Even when we’d been talking, it had taken a lot out of him. I could tell just by the set of his shoulders.

 

I glance over at Riku as the outside world whizzes past in varying shades of white and green. His eyes are focused on the road, one elbow resting on the edge of the window, his other hand on top of the wheel.

 

The radio is muted, so there’s only the sound of the tires going over salt and ice on the road to occupy my ears. Our luggage is safely stored away in the trunk, about a week’s worth. Not that I’m even going to be here another week, but let’s not make Riku suspicious by only packing for a day, shall we?

 

As my head settles back against the headrest, I let loose a long sigh and push my fingers into my hair. My trapper was tossed onto the backseat some time ago. The air in the car is too warm to wear it, not that I’m going to complain. Riku’s vehicle has a very good heater—much better than the one I’ve got in my truck. God, I should replace that thing eventually. I don’t know if I could bear to part with it, though…

 

Something painful in my heart squeezes as the ordinary thought passes through my mind. How was I going to replace the truck when…?

 

I squeeze my fingers over my eyes as the car follows the winding road up the start of the mountains. Mom’s house isn’t too far away now. We’ll be there in half an hour, maybe. That’s all that separates our reunion.

 

Five years…

 

Riku must sense my distress, for he places his hand over my forearm and squeezes as his other hand takes the wheel. “It’ll be okay,” he says softly. “I’m here.”

 

 _And so_ , I think, _is Roxas._

There. At the house. Not like I can just avoid that, him being my twin brother and all. He’s there every year for Christmas with Mom and Dad. It’s as basic as breathing. I’m the only estranged member of our family.

 

God.

 

“I know,” I hear myself say.

 

Would the troubles never end?

 

Or was this just divine punishment instead of a second chance?

 

* * *

 

No one answers the door as I stand huddled before it to knock. I swiftly put my hand back down to my stomach where my other is, clutching them together for a feeble attempt at warmth.

 

Riku stands beside me, his face cool, impassive. I know it’ll change once he sees Mom and Dad. Impassive just seems to be his normal expression when he’s thinking things and not having to put on a show for anybody. Not that Riku acts at being happy or anything. He’s just pretty introverted, that’s all. If he doesn’t put on an effort to let people see how he feels, they’ll never know.

 

But sometimes his feelings shine through all on their own, without any push. That usually happens in the extreme of things, though—when he’s touched about something, when he’s bursting with happiness, or when he’s fucking pissed. Though the last doesn’t always burst through. He’s either ice or fire when it comes to his anger. So… his expression, then, isn’t always guaranteed to change except for a tightening around the lip area.

 

He catches me staring at him and arches an eyebrow in question.

 

I shake my head (“Nothing”) and look away.

 

God, isn’t anyone going to answer the freakin’ door?

 

“Let’s just leave,” I say.

 

I’ve got one foot in the direction of my car when Riku puts his arm around my shoulders to halt me. “Not,” he says, “after we just drove all this way.”

 

“I can pay for the gas?”

 

“You’re missing the point, Sora.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“It’s not about the gas. It’s about a waste of a drive for a scenic road trip.”

 

I pout my lip out at him. “Hey, sometimes our scenic road trips are nice.”

 

“Yeah… when they’re planned for that purpose alone.”

 

I sigh. Obviously he’s not going to let me climb back into the car to hide away from my parents. Fine. Though if the number of cars in the driveway is any indication—we’re not the only ones giving a visit. Unless they’ve signed for a lot of cars in the last five years and didn’t sell the others. Though that still wouldn’t explain the laughter suddenly pouring outside in a muffled fashion from the nearby window.

 

 _Jesus_ , I think, and try the knob.

 

No wonder they didn’t hear me knock.

 

And inside I step to my not-so-waiting family.

 

* * *

 

It’s gotten really quiet and Mom doesn’t notice I’m there until she’s halfway through a joke she’s still laughing about. The mirth lingers in her eyes as she lifts her head to see what the disruption is, and then she spots me.

 

If I thought things were quiet two seconds ago, I was wrong. That’s nothing compared to what it is now.

 

I want to look past her to find sight of my father, but I can’t make my eyes move. They’re glued to her, the woman who raised me, who I pushed away when she showed the first hesitation when she found out I’m gay.

 

I’m an ass. I don’t have any excuse for why I didn’t talk to her, except that I was miserable and I wanted to stay that way. What better way to help achieve this than to push one of the people who had once been closest to my heart farther and farther away? I’ve had a hundred excuses over the years to keep her at that arm’s length. Now, as I meet her wide, blue eyes, I can’t think of any one of them.

 

She stands from the chair she’s occupying.

 

I swallow.

 

Behind me, Riku is tense, waiting to defend me if he must.

 

She crosses the room, and I completely forget to breathe.


	5. Only Chance

Over my mother’s shoulder, I can see Roxas. His eyes are nothing but hostile, suspicious, distrusting in general. When is the last time he looked at me with something close to fondness? Or just—happiness…? I guess that’s asking for too much. I stole Riku from him. He’ll never forgive me for that.

 

_But you—just—wait—until after… after…_

My thoughts trail off. My eyes catch sight of flaming red hair and a tsking frown. No one notices him. No one ever does. I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not as much as I was the first time, in the church, looking at my coffin, hearing my mother’s sobs in the pew behind me… remembering Riku’s despondent eyes…

 

I did this. I did all of it. I’d blamed Riku at first, so hard. I’d wanted to strangle him. I’d hit him, and my hand had passed straight through him. He means everything to me, and he went and did _that_. He betrayed me in the worst possible way. Only… how much of the blame can I place on his shoulders? I can’t. I can’t do it. Not after the last handful of days. He still means too much to me, and I betrayed him, too. I gave up on him, on myself. 

 

He shouldn’t have done it. No one should do that. But… this isn’t about revenge.

 

This is about making things right—about letting go.

 

Axel sighs at me, giving me a long stare. I meet his gaze, not… really sure what I feel. Angry? No. Defeated? Nah. Accepting? Not completely.

 

Mom throws her arms around me. I catch her, and though she makes no noise, I can feel her trembling in my arms. She presses her face into my neck. I’ve always been short. Dad got to keep all the tall genes, with none to spare for Roxas and me.

 

“Mom—” My voice is gruffer than I intend. I have to close my eyes. Emotion burns too strong. How many times have I wanted to scream, to cry? How many times have I denied myself that? And now, with the distance of five years closed and a strangely fragile mother in my arms, she threatens to bring all my finely crafted walls down. I love her. I shouldn’t have left her. She just hadn’t understood—that didn’t mean she’d hated me.

 

But God… I’ve… I’ve always been so angry about everything… I don’t even know when it all started…

 

“Kid, I’ll never understand you. You’ve got it all right here! Take him, take the gold! Your mom will always love you. Who’s left _not_ to? Roxas? So what? He’ll get over it! People move on all the time.” 

 

I clench my eyes shut more tightly and ignore him. He’s the one who gave me this chance, but that doesn’t mean I have to listen to him.

 

Finally, my mother draws away, and we give each other watery smiles right before she laughs through her tears and punches a good one on my arm. The rest of my family takes heart from this, all of them releasing their own shaky laughs and getting to their feet to come forward. Dad, a few of my cousins, my grandparents, an uncle. I’m gathered into arms and hugged close, passed from one relative to the other.

 

The only one who doesn’t join in the reunion is my brother.

 

Axel fades.

 

Riku’s hand stays steady on my shoulder. We’re moved from the front door to the sofa, all but shoved down on it. The Christmas tree in the corner glitters merrily at us. Instead of a chosen pattern of ornaments like the ones I picked for my own, my mom’s is a myriad of anything and everything, some ancient, passed down through the family, others new. She’s never had the heart to get rid of any of them, and usually boxes are left up on the attic. Each year, she lovingly decides which ones to put up, which ones to leave for maybe another Christmas.

 

“All right, son.” Dad ruffles my hair. “Want some cocoa? It’s the drink of choice tonight.”

 

Mom lightly swats his arm. “San. I’ll get it. Want some cookies, Sora? They’re your favorite. Snickerdoodles.”

 

In the kitchen, I hear a plate crash, and everyone jumps. I don’t. I saw Roxas vanish into the kitchen as we were migrating to the old couch.

 

“What on—” Mom’s smile vanishes, and she hurries off.

 

“Seiya, I’ll help.” Riku gets to his feet and heads after her. He must have noticed Roxas’s absence, too.

 

I’m left alone.

 

Expectant faces all peer at me, some curious, others fond.

 

Heat spreading along my cheeks, I duck my head and rub my hand over the back of it.

 

“Heh…”

 

* * *

 

I’m going to be gone soon. I’m trying not to ruminate on it too much, but… how can I not? I’ve got to die. I died the first time, so I have to again. If I don’t—well, Axel was pretty scary when he warned me off that, wasn’t he? I’ve got no choice. I _want_ to stay… I mean, I’m not so saintly as to not have any lingering wishes to remain a part of this earth… but we don’t always get what we want, and this is the best I can do. It’s the best anyone in my position can do.

 

The smile on my face is maybe forced this time as I push up from the couch and depart from family members. It’s growing harder and harder to be happy as the seconds tick closer. This is all I’ve got. It’s all going away soon. I have to keep it together. I _know_ that. It’s just so damn hard. The biting irony of it all is that I wouldn’t even be in this mess in the first place if I hadn’t let myself get so bad. Riku would never had had the need to cheat on me. We’ve already been through all this, so I don’t do it again. It’s nothing more than an endless circle.

 

“It’s okay, Roxas,” Mom is saying. My brother’s at the table, face in his hands, elbows on his knees. Riku has a hand on his shoulder, presumably to be comforting. I look away from the sight and bend to help my mother instead. “Thanks, Sora,” she says upon seeing me, and I take the broom and dust pan from her. Broken pieces of green plate litter the floor, and what looks to be ten cookies, all decorated with sprinkles for the season.

 

“No problem, Mom.” I get to my feet and walk over to the trashcan. Behind me, I can hear Riku murmuring to Roxas, and I can’t quite make out what they’re saying. Probably something about how it wasn’t Roxas’s fault that he smashed the cookie plate. I’m betting he did it on purpose. Okay, so you may think that’s extreme, but it won’t be the first time. Roxas can be a petty little snot sometimes if he’s not getting his way.

 

 _Here, Sora, have some of your favorite cookies,_ I mime in my head.

 

_Noooo, he can’t have them! Smash._

 

“The others are leaving soon, they’ve got their separate families to go to, but we’re all going to stay for dinner.” I feel Mom’s fingers begin to push through my hair, smoothing it out straight. I’ve never understood why she bothers. It’s just going to flop right back into place. The spikes are unmanageable. “Speaking of which, how long are _you_ staying, Sora?”

 

“Um… a few days, we thought.” I glance meaningfully at Riku, trying to catch his eye. He’s still absorbed with Roxas. Blegh. Fine. I return my attention to Mom. “Is that okay? I know it’s out of the blue, but…”

 

“Nope, it’s fine!” Mom puts on a charming grin for me and smacks my butt with the dish cloth in her hand. “Why don’t you go put your things in your old bedroom and get cleaned up? I’ve got it in here. I know it must have been a long drive.”

 

“Thanks, Mom.” I give into impulse and hug her, and she flushes with delight. Smiling at that, I kiss her forehead. My mom’s sweet. A little annoying at times, but that’s just because she’s pushy and only wants what’s best for me. Now, more than ever, I see that. I love her. She’s the best mom ever. And no, I’m not just saying that because she’s _my_ mom. I bet if she entered the Best Mom Contest, she’d win, hands down.

 

I nudge Riku’s leg with my foot as I pass him. “Hey, I’m going upstairs.”

 

Riku glances up, as if seeing me there for the first time. I arch my eyebrows. “Uh—yeah, okay. Hold on, I’ll be there in one second.” A little red around the ears, Riku ducks his head back down and murmurs one last thing to Roxas before he pats his shoulder and departs to walk alongside me out of the kitchen. I pretend I didn’t notice anything. I mean, what’s the point in arguing with him now? God, they’re so obvious. Oblivious. Both.

 

“You’re in a good mood,” Riku whispers, his hand finding the small of my back. I’m a bit annoyed at that. I don’t need him to lead me. But what the hell. While we’re on a not arguing scheme, might as well stick to it.

 

“It’s going better than I thought,” I confess. We wave idly to the family and head outside to get our things from the car. Five minutes later, and it’s trudging upstairs with us, _thunk, thunk, thunk_. Overnight rollers, two pillows, and a bag full of stuff to do. That last one is mine alone. I’m surprised Riku didn’t bring anything to do. Normally he gets bored faster than _me_ —and trust me, I am not always easily entertained.

 

I’m a very restless individual. I like camping and all of that good stuff. Yet if you put me in a cabin for a few days, I’m going to go out of my mind. I have to be doing something. That’s how I got started writing, actually. One day I’d fished out some paper and a pencil and got to work. It wasn’t that hard, and over time it became more than just a hobby. I _liked_ it. I had stories to craft. And then it started making me money, so it was even _better_.

 

Then I just sort of got involved in it, and…

 

Riku kisses my temple as we hit the upper landing. “Don’t start frowning now.”

 

“Mmm.” I give him a tiny grin. “Sorry. Was just thinking.”

 

He pulls a face of mock innocence. “You? Thinking? No way!”

 

I smack him with my pillow. “Shut up, Riku.”

 

Giggling together, we enter my old bedroom and set down our stuff.

 

God, this place is old. Not dusty or anything, Mom seems to keep the cleaning in here up, but… yeah. Even before I vanished for five years, I still hadn’t inhabited it for a couple of years before _then_. Aladdin bedspread. I hadn’t been able to give that thing up, even when in high school. It wasn’t like I had anyone to impress, you know? Only Riku, and though he poked fun at me a few times for it, he mostly left me alone.

 

Empty desk. Empty closet. I guess most of my old things are in the attic.

 

Shrugging, I turn to Riku. “She said to clean up before dinner.”

 

Grinning, he slides a hand over my rear end and uses it to push me into him. His teeth find my ear and nibble, and a small shiver passes through me as I tilt my head into it. He’s always been extremely good with his mouth. Already, I’m thinking about it on other places. Mmm. “It was permission to take a shower together, right?”

 

“Well—not _exactly_ —but… she never said we _couldn’t_ …” I hedge, hoping to get more bribes.

 

His tongue curls around the shell of my ear. My breath hitches, and my hands clench into his shirt. His palms settle over my hips. He presses into me, and his hope at the possible future situation is a hard spot against my stomach. I put my head on his chest and bat my lashes up at him innocently enough.

 

“Riiiikuuu. What are you doing?”

 

“Don’t play coy.” He grips my wrist and is already hauling me down the hallway. “Come on. I know exactly where the towels are.”

 

“Better hope she didn’t move them,” I tease.

 

Anticipation is a hot knot in my stomach. It’s giving me a thrill that Riku still wants me. I don’t know what I expect after everything that happened to us yesterday. Him to change his mind? Roxas to get a little more of a deeper hold on his thoughts? Either way, we’re about to hit up the shower again. Yum.

 

* * *

 

I wake in the middle of the night to Roxas standing over me. I half-expect to see a knife in his hand, but no, there’s not one. He’s merely watching me, hands loose at his sides, brows lightly furrowed over his nose. I’m so tired that my eyes are already drooping again. Wind whistles past the window, and at my back, Riku stirs, his arm tightening around my waist. I’m trying to remember what the actual time is. I can’t see it. Roxas is blocking the clock. For that matter, what time did I go to bed? Had to have been early. Just after dinner, I think, waving away my family and their attempts to get me to play Scrabble.

 

Shit. I’m really good at Scrabble, too.

 

But I’ve been so exhausted lately. It’s the mental journey I’ve been on the last handful of days. My mind’s been working in overload, maybe because it’ll never get to do it again.

 

I open my eyes. Roxas is gone, as if he was never there.

 

* * *

 

I shuffle sleepily downstairs, pausing on the occasion to plant a hand against the wall and rub my eyes with the other. The staircase is in two pieces, encased by walls on the upper half when it drifts horizontally from the first part after a slight platform. When I reach the bottom, I grip onto the railing, letting it guide me. My eyes sweep over the room. They burn. I wasn’t ready to be up yet, and I got out of bed anyway, so now they’re tormenting me. But he’s not here, either.

 

Where did he go?

 

Did I imagine him hovering over my bedside?

 

I’d find it creepy if I didn’t know how much he loves Riku, and how much he hates me for stealing him.

 

Everywhere’s quiet. Mom and Dad are snoozing, and if the snoring coming out from the bottom of their door is any indication, they’re going to be out for a while. They’ve never been light sleepers. It always made it easy for Roxas and me to slip into the kitchen for snacks when we were little without being noticed. We’d become like ninjas at it, though stealth wasn’t necessarily required with _our_ parents.

 

A lone note drifts through the quiet, and now I know where he is.

 

There’s a room just off the dining room. I guide myself into it. Like the rest of the house, it’s dark… except for the sole candle he bothered to light, which sits on top of the grand piano he’s seated at. Kind of dangerous. Am I going to tell him that? Not worth the fight. He’ll just tell me he’ll be careful with it and to go away before I’m ready to.

 

I watch the shadows of the flame flicker over the walls, briefly illuminating pictures in places. Outside the window, covered in heavy crimson draperies that match the rest of the room, snow falls. There has to be a good foot or so out there now. It’s been nonstop since we arrived, and mostly heavy at that. Why, I expect in the morning we’ll have about twenty-one inches, just like… just like last time…

 

It’s so close. I can feel the end creeping in my blood, thrumming in time with my heart, reminding me that I now have less than twenty-four hours before I have to leave everyone behind because of some— _stupid_ mistake the first time around. I still can’t believe how selfish I’ve been. How does Riku even find it in himself to still love me? How do my parents accept me back when I’ve been such an ass to them? Especially my mother. God, I love her. She doesn’t deserve what I put her through.

 

More piano notes make themselves known to the dismal air. Roxas’s eyes are downcast; his hair hangs in his eyes, the gel gone from holding it in place. Did he run water through it earlier? Who knows? Again, I don’t bother him with it, I just remain perched in the doorway, unsure if I should go in or leave. I followed him this far. Might as well stay until he kicks me out.

 

After a moment, I recognize the tune.

 

 _Have yourself… a…_ His fingers drift down the keys, slowly, one after the other. _…merry little Christmas… let your heart… be… light…_

 

My throat grows tight. That’s his favorite Christmas song. Mom used to sing it to him all the time when he was a kid. Hell, maybe they still sing it together even now. I don’t know. I haven’t been around like I should be. I should have stayed his brother—shouldn’t have let him push me away. Despite what he probably thinks, he needs me.

 

_From now on… our… troubles… will be out… of… sight…_

 

I tread over to the piano, wondering if he knows I’m here. My hands in my pockets, I stand next to it, watching first the light flicker over the gossamer-looking coating, and then letting my gaze slip to his down-turned head. I didn’t notice it the other day, but his brown roots are beginning to show. He’ll probably dye it again soon. He always does. Ever since we were little, he’s wanted to be different. Mom’s never stopped him—she’s questioned why a time or two. That’s the extent of it. Dad doesn’t understand, though. He thinks we should be proud to be twins. He thinks we should be close.

 

_Have yourself… a… merry little Christmas… make the yuletide… gay…_

But I stole Riku. I committed an unpardonable sin.

_From now on… our troubles… will be miles away…_  

 

So Roxas dresses differently. He dyes his hair blond and styles it to where his spikes bear no likeness to mine. His mannerisms were well thought out and practiced until they were what they are now. His personality doesn’t closely resemble mine, and he makes sure everyone knows it. He wants nothing to do with me on the level of brotherhood. He’s told me that we should be proud to be different, so no one ever confuses us—wear it like badges on our clothes.

 

But I know when he’s sad. He knows when I cry.

 

_Here we are… as in olden days… happy golden days… of yore…_

 

The need to care just stopped after a while, that’s all.

 

_Faithful friends… who are dear to us… gather near to us… once… more…_

 

I wonder who set up the battlefield, who rallied first. Me, unknowingly? Or Roxas, when he began to change so much. We used to speak at the same time—we had the same laugh. Sometimes we didn’t even need to talk because we shared the same thoughts. We were like one person, unwilling to drift from each other’s side, always having to go everywhere together, do everything together. Now it’s so different, he’s like a stranger to me. That’s the point, I suppose.

 

 _Through the years… we all will be together… if the fates allow… hang a shining… star… upon the… highest bough…_ He draws in a breath that shudders. _…and have yourself… a merry little Christmas… now…_

 

He doesn’t look up as he holds down the last key, and the sound trails off into eventual silence. Even then, he doesn’t release it. We both stare down at the keyboard, our breaths held, our hearts maybe even beating in synch. I can remember one time, when we placed a hand over each other’s heart and felt and waited and slowed everything down until they _were_ in synch. It seems strange now, that we used to want to be so close. Foreign. But I won’t take those days back for anything.

 

“You know. Don’t you?”

 

I don’t say anything. It’s not because I’m trying to make my silence speak for itself. Rather—I just don’t know _what_ to say.

 

I do know.

 

He knows I know.

 

In a perfect world, it just doesn’t need an answer.

 

My brother— _twin, savior, destroyer_ —is quiet for another moment. His finger slips from the key, and he settles his hands in his lap. “…I used to be so mad at you. You had everything,” he says, his voice so soft I have to strain to hear it.

 

I wait a moment, then slowly shake my head. “I had what you had.” It’s the truth, as much as anything else is. But I suppose he won’t believe me, will he?

 

“You had Riku.” His smile is as soft as his voice, and it’s fleeting. By the next flicker of the candle light, it’s gone. He closes his eyes. I see his throat work as he swallows and then carefully exhales. “At first, you really cherished each other. Then, as time went on, it was like you became a whole different person. You were mean—you were angry. You didn’t want to talk to anybody. You clung to Riku when it mattered, but you still somehow pushed him away.”

 

His cheeks are damp. I pretend not to see.

 

“You didn’t appreciate him anymore. I mean… I guess the only reason you hadn’t broken up with him yet was because you were so used to him being there, it wasn’t worth the effort to move on.”

 

I listen to him in silence. He wouldn’t be saying this if he didn’t need to rant. I can give him at least this, especially because… it’s also true. The words sting, and they bite as they were intended, and I can’t tell him to stop. It’d be a lie. I’m tired of lies, of lying to myself.

 

Roxas suddenly slams his fingers down the keys. The resulting cacophony of a melody of anger is harsh in the quiet that spread between us.

 

“So I took him!” he hisses, turning his face up to mine. “I took him, and I didn’t care if he was still yours!” His blue irises are darker than I’ve seen them in a while. He’s really pissed. “ _I_ wanted Riku.” Betrayed? He points to his chest, and maybe he sees sympathy lingering in my gaze, because he _tsks_ and looks away. “I wanted him. I wanted to treasure and respect him where you _didn’t_ anymore. You didn’t give a shit, but _I_ —I did!”

 

Also true.

 

It’s my turn to draw in a deep breath and close my eyes.

 

He loves Riku.

 

He’s always loved Riku.

 

“For once, I wanted him to be mine—I wanted to show him that he could be appreciated, that someone _needed_ him. Your relationship was in pieces.” He laughs humorlessly, the sound dark and a little strange coming from him. But he’s upset. Sometimes that distorts the voice in unfavorable ways. “All I had to do was walk on in and grab him, and he was mine. You’d left such a mess there wasn’t much I had to do to start to clean it all up.”

 

I want to interrupt him. I don’t. Pain beats through my heart into my chest, and it’s a struggle not to deny everything. But it’s still all so true. I don’t have the right.

 

Something inside of me needs to listen to this. It needs to swallow down my pride and _hear_ the words that are coming from that mouth upturned in bitterness.

 

These are my mistakes that my brother deems fit to lay out before me.

 

This is my history.

 

This is true.

 

That laugh comes from him again. It ends on a ragged breath, and I open my eyes to see him dragging his fingers through his hair. So much pain fills his voice that it hurts _me_ to listen to it. “He was so… so loyal to you…”

 

I look away. If he’s so loyal to me, then why—?

 

“It took me _months_ to get where I was with him. And now, suddenly, all he wants is you again!” His hands slam back down against the keys. “Suddenly all he _talks_ about is you again!” A growl of a yell, so borderline to one I briefly wonder if it’ll actually wake Mom and Dad up. “What did you _do_? Why do you _care_? Why didn’t you just let him be _mine_!”

 

I want to scream at him, “Because he’s _not_ yours, and he never has been!” but the words are like glue at the sides of my throat. I can’t make myself say it even if I want to. It will kill him, and he doesn’t deserve it. I’m dying soon, anyway.

 

Why fight with him?

 

Why tell him he’s wrong?

 

Why tell him that it hurt that Riku hadn’t wanted me anymore?

 

Impatience bursts from Roxas, and he slams another fist against the keys. “ _SAY SOMETHING TO ME!_ ”

 

I flinch and shake my head as the words echo through the room and probably upstairs. There are more tears gathering in his eyes. They make mine rise to the surface, and my throat is so tight I can’t breathe. We stare at each other with only the light of the candle to aid us, and it’s enough. There’s raw pain in both of our gazes. I feel certain that he thinks he’s the worse off. I wish I could tell him differently. I wish I could let him know what I had done.

 

It’d be so nice to unload this burden, to let someone listen to me and tell me it’ll be okay, that they forgive me.

 

“I don’t have… the right,” I say at last. I can’t tell anyone. Axel made that very clear.

 

I’m dying.

 

As we speak, I’m dying.

 

I killed myself.

 

I let Riku go.

 

I didn’t fight.

 

I pushed everyone away.

 

All so there would be peace—all so that I could rest with my own damned selfish ignorance. And now that I’m here, to fix things, I see all the pain I caused everyone, and it’s almost too much to take. Would everyone be better off without me? Would they be happier? I’m just a blight—I’m just…

 

“What’s going on?” Suspicion hedged with wariness colors Riku’s voice, and I turn to find him just behind me, his eyes riveted on Roxas and me.

 

Roxas’s smile, when I glance back at him, is bitter again, and wet again, and there’s a brightness to his eyes that doesn’t seem altogether very healthy, as if he’s barely hanging on as it is. “Hey, Riku.” The words are almost shaky. He doesn’t give any indication that he notices. Normally he hates such weaknesses. “I was just telling Sora about our affair.”

 

Oh, God.

 

I don’t want to deal with this yet. But when would be the proper time? Never, unfortunately.

 

Riku’s eyes are hard and equally bright as they settle on Roxas. His are a tad scarier, though. “Roxas.” The name is flat and harsh to my ears, not quite a hiss, and I see my brother flinch as I had done moments ago, like Riku slapped him. Riku doesn’t even have to raise his voice to make people do that. It’s a nice weapon when he’s seriously peeved.

 

“No, stop, it’s—” I begin.

 

Roxas cuts me off. “Roxas what?” The smile notices itself up another inch. “Roxas, don’t tell him, because I don’t want him to leave me? Roxas, I told you from the beginning that I care about Sora more? Roxas, Sora always comes first?”

 

I can’t do this.

 

“You guys settle this. I’ll be in the other room.” I brush past them, my heart pounding. It’s one thing to know—it’s another to have it suddenly splayed out in front of me in spades. This is a fight they need to have on their own. I’ll pick up what’s left in the aftermath, when I can better control my actions. If I stay in here now…

 

Riku grips my elbow. “Sora, don’t—”

 

I shake him off and ignore the flash of hurt in his eyes. “I’m not mad, Riku. I already knew. Just—whatever… arrangement… you two come to… Let me know later.”

 

His voice is small and unfamiliar coming from him. “You—you _knew_? But I—”

 

I squeeze his arm and get around him. Freedom. Air. It’s so close, I can taste it. “Find me later.”

 

With each step I take away from him after that, it doesn’t hurt as much.

 

* * *

 

I want to say I never wanted either of them to hurt.

 

But that would be a lie.

 

God, what have I done?

 

* * *

 

What do you do when you finally acknowledge that the whole reason your life is terrible is because you made it that way?

 

What do you do when you open your eyes and you see that everyone is miserable because of _you_?

 

* * *

 

Shit, it’s too late to fix this.

 

Everyone’s dug in so deep.

 

They’ve fallen so far in the waves.

 

They’ll hit the bottom soon.

 

I feel like I can’t swim. My movements are too clumsy, too uncertain. With every league of water I manage to get through, another makes itself known to me.

 

Where is this end of all this?

 

Or does this pain just go on forever and ever?

 

* * *

 

Someone.

 

Someone, just tell me… tell me what to do.

 

* * *

 

Tell me how to make this right.

 

* * *

 

The lights are off in my bedroom. I’m staring past my window and to the balcony. I left the glass doors open enough that a chilly breeze can push against the heat of the room. It billows past my curtains on the occasion, once it’s gathered up enough strength. It feels good against my flushed skin. The encounter with Roxas has shaken me to the point where I can’t tell one end of anything from the other. It’s all a mess. One great big mess.

 

 _That’ll have to be the balcony_ , I think. It’s the only one that’ll do, won’t it?

 

I wonder if I should just end it early. But that isn’t part of the deal, and besides, I still need to “fix” things.

 

How could I have been so foolish as to think it would be a simple task?

 

I’ve been so blind.

 

* * *

 

The alarm on the nightstand reads that it’s two in the morning when I finally hear the shuffle of Riku’s footsteps, but I don’t say anything just yet. I wonder if he’ll be the one to break the silence. I hope he does. I don’t trust myself to speak. Words are still lumped together in my throat, and I don’t know which ones will come out first. I’m afraid they’ll be the ugly ones, and that’s the last thing I want with Riku right now.

 

We’ve been doing so good lately. It’s been, what… two days? It feels like more, like weeks. I’ll never forgive myself if I ruin it now.

 

“Hey.” The word is hoarse and uncertain.

 

“Hi,” I respond. I keep my eyes on curtains. Snow dots the floor. Mom will kill me when she sees the sodden mess the carpet is becoming. It’s easier to imagine how that conversation is going to go than to focus on the one that’s about to happen with Riku.

 

“Are we…?”

 

I work my throat into a swallow. My breath rasps out. Good. I can talk now without my voice cracking. “…Still together?” I finish for him. It’s probably not when he’s been planning to say. Oh, well. It needs to be addressed sooner or later, so why not now? It’s not as if I have time to beat around the bush anymore. _You’vebeensostupidstupid **stupid** … _

 

 _Please forgive me when this is all over,_ I think at him, willing with all my might for him to hear me. Of course he doesn’t. _Please don’t hate the memory of me._

 

His silence is long, and it’s profound enough that I start to rise into a sitting position, my heart clenched with dread. He’s in the doorframe, his eyes on the floor, his hands tucked into his pockets. Maybe he’s decided he wants Roxas, after all. It’d be for the best. Less of a mess for everyone to clean when I’m gone, as Roxas has and will put it. They can be happy, and I can live out my final day content in the knowledge that Riku really is better off without me…

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Do you want to be?”

 

Riku’s eyes flick up to mine, searching them. I let him, keeping my expression calm and on neutral territory, a sad smile on my mouth. Inside my heart is racing again. I hope it doesn’t show. I don’t want him to know how nervous I suddenly am. That would defeat the whole point of letting him choose on his own. And haven’t I told Axel again and again that I’m not going to be selfish enough to yank Riku back?

 

 _You already have,_ a voice wheedles at my ear.

 

But it’s different. He came to me. I let him. I…

 

Though I’ll be gone in a day, I find myself hoping that he won’t… give up on me just yet…

 

My thoughts flash back to yesterday. Lying on the bed, my fingers skittering across his arm—the shower, as we make love. The giggles before that, as we undress one another. The silence of the evening, my arms wrapped around his shoulders as we both watch the TV without really seeing it.

 

I don’t _want_ to lose him, and God, I know it’s selfish, but even though I have almost an entire day and nothing more, I can’t bear the thought. It hurt so much the first time, when I thought him gone from me forever. I don’t want to experience that again, and I don’t know if I can. I want to know I’ve done enough, that I’ve started to repair the disaster that became our relationship. Though it’ll all topple over again on the beginning of Christmas Eve—though the mess will spread farther and deeper than anything I’ve ever done before—

 

Can’t we at least have this brief happiness together?

 

Does it have to be tainted, soiled?

 

Does it have to go away?

 

“I love you,” he whispers.

 

And just like that, all the grief and the mounting fear and the hurt and the anger that is thriving in my heart lessen.

 

He closes his eyes. “…I did something unforgiveable, Sora. It’s okay to hate me for it. If you don’t want to be together anymore…”

 

“Stop.” The word’s strangled. I can’t manage anything more. “Just… just stop. Don’t. I pushed you away.”

 

“That doesn’t make what I did right—”

 

“It doesn’t,” I agree. “But it doesn’t mean it can’t get better. It doesn’t mean it can’t be fixed.”

 

Who am I to talk about fixing this?

 

I’ll be gone in a day!

 

I do my best to keep my frustration down, since he’ll think it’s directed at him when it’s not at all. “I love you,” I say slowly, in no uncertain terms, so that he can better understand me. It wobbles in places, but if I’m not in an emotional state right now, he probably won’t believe me. “I love you more than anything, and I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize what a huge— _jerk_ I was being.”

 

Riku’s eyes hold vehement denial. “You can’t help who you are,” he says, and I love how… yeah, _loyal_ he is.

 

But God, he doesn’t know the whole truth, and since I’ve already been accepting it tonight, it’s time to give some, too.

 

“I stopped taking my pills, Riku.”

 

He grows quiet, as I knew he would.

 

“I threw them away,” I whisper. “I knew you counted them, and I threw them away. I didn’t want to deal with it. I—I _wanted_ to be unhappy. I didn’t care about anyone—I didn’t even care about myself.” It’s so hard to get that out, and for a moment I don’t think I can bear to continue. It’s a familiar feeling. I force myself to, anyway. He needs to hear this, as much as I needed to hear what Roxas had spouted at me. “I resented you for being there for me when I just wanted to be left alone.”

 

“Sora, I—” So helpless again.

 

“No, Riku. Listen.” I scrub my hands quickly over my eyes and gulp in a deep breath. It’s a moment before I can go on. I don’t think I’ve ever been so honest with him before, not for a single moment in our lives. “…You were always there for me, in every way you could be. In every way I allowed you to be. What happened between us? That’s _my_ fault.”

 

He sinks down on the bed beside me, and his hand covers mine. “Sora—I should have… fought harder or something. I shouldn’t have let you deal with all of that alone.”

 

A noble cause.

 

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” God, could this cut me to say it any less? Maybe it’s part of my punishment. It’s certainly divine enough. “I swear to you, Riku—whatever you tried to do to help me or our relationship wouldn’t have mattered. I wanted to be that way, so I was.”

 

His eyes lower.

 

“… I just—I’ve just… finally woken up.” I take the deepest breath I can and let it out in increments. “I’ve seen what I’ve done to everyone, even to you. It took… a lot… for me to get to this place. And if you don’t… want to—if it’s too late… if you want to patch things up, if you love Roxas and want to be with him, then let me know. Just—tell me. I won’t blame you. I promise. I love you, Riku, and I want… I just want you to finally be happy.”

 

He’s so quiet, so so so quiet. I swear I can hear my heart beating.

 

I lay my hand against his shoulder, almost afraid to touch him for fear that now he’ll brush me away. “I don’t want you to hurt anymore…”

 

“I only hurt because I thought I lost you.” He lifts his head to look at me, searching again. “Have I?”

 

I shake my head, closing my eyes.

 

“Come here.” He takes me into his arms then. He pushes my forehead against his shoulder, and then his nose dips to bury itself in my hair. Even with the chill lingering in from the outside, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so warm.

 


	6. The Last Day to Live

Riku is curled up in bed. Our bed. The lights are off, and the covers are pushed down to his feet. He's lying on one side, my spot empty. His eyes look wet. I think idly that I've never seen Riku cry before. At least, not in a good, long time. He's not even going to cry at my funeral, after all. Or, at least, he _didn't_ the first time around.

 

He's looking intently at his phone, and after a moment, a voice breaks out into the silence.

 

 _"Hey, it's Sora. Sorry I can't come to the phone right now. If you'll just leave your—hey ,Riku, stop tickling me!"_ Laughter, fresh and young and from so many years ago. _"…call you b-back… bye!"_

 

I've had that voice message for years, primarily because I've had the same exact phone for years. I never bothered to change it. I hate the phone, hate speaking on it if I can avoid it. Over time, I've grown to hate everything.

 

Riku sniffles. His tongue runs across his upper lip. His cheeks are shining, and his lashes are damp. Slowly, he presses a trembling finger against a button. Seconds pass.

 

_"Hey, it's Sora. Sorry I can't come to the phone right now…"_

 

It continues on like this for some time. I lose track. All I know by the end of it is that I want it to stop, to go away. Why am I being tortured like this? Why do I have to suffer with him? I know what I did was wrong—I know I shouldn't have killed myself when there was still so much to live for if only I had taken the time to fix it…

 

I know that, I _know that_!

 

So then why—why this?

 

Why torment me with images of what's going to be?

 

Why linger in a world that won't be mine?

 

Will it be like this forever? Is this my personal preview of the hell that awaits me?

 

I'm scared. I've been scared, this whole time, but there's only one day left. Only one day—

 

One… single… day…

 

_"Hey, it's Sora. Sorry I can't…"_

 

My throat feels raw. It's the first thing I notice. The second is the screaming. It's loud and piercing and it won't stop.

 

And it's coming from me.

 

"Sora— _Sora_!" Hands land on my shoulders, shaking me hard. If I wasn't already senseless, I would quickly become so. My head snaps back on my shoulders as I'm lifted, and past strands of silver hair I open my eyes to see green ones blazing into mine. But they're not Riku's—they belong to the person lingering over him, the person he doesn't even notice.

 

The person with a cat's smile.

 

I lunge. It's illogical, hopeless, and I do it, anyway. Axel vaporizes, reappearing a second later behind me as I whirl for him, already searching. He holds up a hand, and I stare at him, breathing wildly, each inhale and exhale the sound of a hurricane on the horizon.

 

"WHY WON'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE!" I yell at him. It's only at that moment that I feel how damp my cheeks are.

 

"Careful, Sora…" he warns. His index finger wags back and forth. "Remember who you're speaking to—and what'll happen if you say too much…" His eyes narrow. "I'm sure you want to enjoy those last precious hours with your man."

 

My fists clench. I want to rend him limb from limb. "Why?" I demand again. My throat is thick with my tears. Riku looks bewildered, suddenly realizing I'm not speaking to him at all. He hesitates, backs up a step, then comes forward. He touches me, tries to get me to face him.

 

"Sora… Sora—what's wrong? Look at me—you're awake now…"

 

"Why _what_?" Axel draws out the word.

 

I shake Riku off and advance. Axel doesn't budge an inch, and I halt a foot away from him, wary of getting too close. The man is death, and even in my frenzied state, I can feel it from here. That otherworldliness that speaks of the grave.

 

"Why show me what you show me?! What's the point of it?! To make me suffer more?!"

 

Axel calmly studies his nails, encased in black leather though they are. "Hey, kid, you're the one who off'd yourself. Don't come cryin' to me about it."

 

I growl, angry, no, _livid_ —at the world, at my situation, at _him_. I want to murder him. The fact is, I can't. So I try to deal with that instead. I whip around, put my fists to my eyes, and I struggle to breathe. In, out. In, out. That's it, Sora. Easy peasy.

 

Except it's not. It's not at all.

 

I'm shaking, and I can't make it stop. How many hours do I have left? I whirl back to the nightstand. Axel's gone, but at least I can see the alarm. My heart seizes in my chest when I see that it's half past noon. What the hell? How had we slept in so late? Why had no one woken us up? Half my day is already gone…

 

Riku approaches me again, much more cautiously. As I slip to my knees, unseeing, the green digits on the clock becoming nothing more than a blur, he puts his hand back on my shoulder. I barely feel it.

 

 _Do I have to jump?_ I think. _What will happen if I don't?_

 

Axel will take all those new days I just gained, and it will all be for nothing.

 

"Sora… you're white as a ghost… c'mon, tell me what's wrong…" Warm fingers slide around my cheek to guide my head to the left. I meet Riku's green eyes, and the lump in my throat swells. To my dismay, tears dot my lashes, a hot film over my eyes. I want to tell him everything so badly I ache with it. And I can't.

 

"Bad reaction to my medicine," I say, my voice thick. "I'm sorry. I was half-asleep… I don't—I don't know what's wrong…" Lies on top of lies. I hate that I have to say them. I've never liked lying to Riku. I've always avoided it. Yet the truth has to remain elusive for now… for forever. He'll never know all of it, and that pains me more.

 

His fingers soothe through my hair. His eyes are full of worry. "Do you need me to call your doctor for you?"

 

I shake my head. "No…" I take his hand in mine and squeeze his fingers. I just want to touch him, to know he's there, to get what I can. I've got less than twelve hours left. I want to spend them with him as much as possible. "It's two days away from Christmas. He's got enough problems. We just got here, too… I—let's wait it out…"

 

"Are you sure?" I can see that he wants to press this, that he wants to call my doctor up.

 

"Positive." I lean over, kissing him, knowing he'll taste the salt of my tears. "I love you. I'm fine. Okay?"

 

"Okay…" he says, clearly not believing me. I know he'll be keeping a careful watch on me from now on. I can't afford to slip up again. Not that it will really matter if he calls the doctor—I just don't want that cloud hovering over us for our remaining hours together.

 

Downstairs, a melody suddenly rings up through the house from the piano. It's Roxas, I just know it. He always used to wake me up like this when we lived together here with our parents. It was his favorite way—still is, although maybe that has more to do with bitterness this time. Had he heard me yelling and assumed it was us fighting?

 

_Just hear those sleigh bells jingle-ing, ring-ting-tingle-ing, too…_

 

"Someone is in top form today," Riku observes. The last traces of hesitance slip from his face, and he gets to feet. I take his offered hand and join him. We stand facing one another.

 

"Yeah… looks like he's not going to be on good terms with us today." What did we expect? Really?

 

"Yeah," Riku agrees. He heads over to the closet where he's hung up his clothes and pulls a soft cream sweater free. I follow his cue and dig through my luggage, which I haven't bothered to unpack, in search of a shirt that's not too wrinkled. A minute later, I produce a solid blue one that Riku made me buy ages ago.

 

"I like that one," he says now. "It looks good on you."

 

I stick out my tongue. "You snuck this in here. I didn't pack this."

 

He smiles guilelessly and pulls on his pants. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. We should hurry up, though. Any minute, and your mom's going to—"

 

"Sooooraaaa!"

 

Riku winces as Mom's voice rises over the racket of the cheerful piano notes. Roxas hasn't let up yet, and he likely won't until lunch is put on the table. It's almost as bad as Mom's pitch. We still don't know how she does that. She's got the vocal chords of a kraken. Believe me, it's even worse when you're in trouble with her. Beware then. Your eardrums might just pop.

 

"That'd be our cue to get down to lu—"

 

"IT’S TIME FOR LLLLLLLLLUUUUUUNNNNNNCHHHHHHH!"

 

His wrist rolls forward, and he gives a small bow of his head as I giggle. "Thank you, thank you," he murmurs. "I'll be here _all_ week." With a sigh, he puts his fingers in his hair and keeps them there, shooting a dirty look toward the door. I wonder if he's just glad that that wasn't his wake-up call. Not that he had a much better one…

 

"You know, I don't know how they slept through the piano the night before," I say as merrily as I can. What I really want to do is growl, stalk down the stairs, find Roxas, and put him and the piano through the nearest wall. I thought I could handle it, but I can't. "It's so loud, isn't it? I guess this is what parents like to call selective hearing, except this time it's in reverse."

 

"A bomb squad could come here, and they'd snore right through it."

 

Well, Dad would. Mom doesn't snore—but the only way she can even get through that racket is by having the ability to sleep through anything, so… it works out for them, doesn't it? I don't think I've ever seen Dad sleeping on the couch unless they've had a fight about something, and those are pretty rare as it is.

 

"Or the world could be ending," I add. "Like on _2012_."

 

"The movie, or the year?"

 

"Movie," I affirm.

 

Riku pauses to consider this, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Then he nods and sits on the bed to pull on his socks. "Yup, I think you're on to something there."

 

After dressing, we both amble into the bathroom to brush our teeth and our hair. Let me make a correction. _Riku's_ going to brush his hair, probably pull it into a ponytail. Me? I'm going to wrestle with mine, tug a brush and a comb through it, probably break off a few bristles and teeth, and then sigh in defeat, slop some water over my fingers and finger brush it.

 

His hair neatly out of the way while I'm still fighting with the brush, Riku pops open his can of shaving cream. He flicks on the faucet, smoothes the cream on his cheeks liberally, and readies his razor. He's got way more stubble than me. I can probably get away with mine until tomorrow morning before Mom says anything, and then—

 

My heart falters, and I remember that there won't be another morning for me.

 

How easy it was, just to get lost in old habits for those few minutes…  

 

"What's wrong?" Riku taps his razor against the sink, freeing some hairs. He runs it under the water and lifts it back to his face. Half of the cream is gone to leave smooth, pale skin.

 

"Nothing," I mutter.

 

He bumps shoulders with me. "It's not nothing."

 

"It _is_ nothing." I force my mouth into a grin. I'm getting good at it now. I'm almost convincing. "See?"

 

"Anyone ever tell you that grin is terrible?" Snorting with amusement, Riku lifts the blue teeth out of my hair. "Looks like you're going to need to replace that comb."

 

I sigh at the sight of them and snatch them back. "Damn it."

 

* * *

 

"I'll be home for Christmas," my mother is singing as she loads pancakes onto a giant plate. Looks as though we're having breakfast for lunch. "You can count on me…"

 

"Please have snow and mistletoe and presents by the tree," my father sings quickly, and he leans in behind her to drop a kiss on her cheek. She giggles, her shoulder rising into it, before lightly swatting him on the arm with her spatula. The tip is covered in pancake batter and leaves smears on his sweater. He mock growls at her and swoops her up into a real kiss. It's sickening in a sweet way.

 

Riku and I make the obligatory fake barf noises, and my mother flips her hand at me to get me to shush. Giggling myself, I fall into a seat at the table, and Riku follows suit. The table is already set with festive plates and glasses. Jugs of orange juice and milk sit within reach, and I pour myself some of the former.

 

"How do you want your eggs, Sora?" Mom asks from the stove, now that Dad has finally set her down and smoothed out her apron and skirt.

 

"Over-medium," I reply dutifully. My stomach rumbles in anticipation. This is the second meal I'll have had from my mother in five years, and she has the best cooking. Riku is good, too, in his own way, but he's got nothing on Mom, I'm afraid.

 

"Riku?" she chirps.

 

"Same." He finishes topping off his glass with milk and sets it aside. "I don't suppose there's a chance that this is skim," he mutters to me.

 

"Nope. You know better than that," I laugh. His face darkens as he sighs, and I nudge shoulders with him. "Your physique will manage for one day, Riku," I say, purposefully drawing out the syllables of his name.

 

He pats his stomach and shakes his head. "I'll know it's there."

 

Roxas is still banging away on the piano. Mom shouts his name, looking more annoyed now. She's been summoning him for the last five minutes and he's steadfastly ignored her. Dad's debated on whether or not he can hear her over that racket, but I know he's just in a pissy mood and trying to avoid everyone while at the same time annoying the shit out of them.

 

"At least it's festive, Mom," I offer.

 

She rolls her eyes. "Let me go get him…"

 

Dad stays her with a hand on her shoulder. "Don't pressure him, sweetie. He'll just get more annoyed."

 

Beside me, Riku shifts. I glance up to see his eyes in the direction of Roxas, concern pulling his brows together. My heart twists at that. A sting of jealousy stirs, and I do my best to ignore it. Riku's not going to forget Roxas overnight. Things aren't that simple. I _know_ that. In a perverse way, I don't want him to forget Roxas, anyway. I'll be gone soon.

 

_Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la, tis the season to be jolly…_

 

"Look at him, so eager to go comfort his former lover," a voice coos in my ear, and it's not Riku. It's not Dad or Mom. I know who it is without even having to turn around. In an effort to ignore him, I stay rooted firmly in my seat, and I place my hand on Riku's forearm.

 

I can't afford to cause another scene.

 

"Riku, it's okay. You can check on him."

 

I feel Riku hesitate. Tension gathers in his arm. But, after a moment, it leaves him, his shoulders relaxing, and he gives a small shake of his head. His eyes return to me, and he offers a half-smile. I raise my eyebrows in question.

 

"I don't want to," he whispers for my ears only. "That's not my place." He rests his forehead lightly on mine, and I feel my heart skip a beat despite all the years between us. A faint smile touches my lips in return.

 

"That, or he doesn't want to deal with a temper tantrum," Axel hisses. "He knows if he goes in there, Roxas will start sobbing about how he can't have his precious Riku, and then the cat's out of the bag, as they say." A hand lands on my shoulder, and goosebumps rise clear on my skin. I can't stifle a shiver.

 

"Cold?" Riku murmurs, and he rubs my arm to warm it up.

 

"Yeah, there must be a draft or something." I shrug and give him a quick peck on the lips. Once, long ago, I wouldn't have dared. I'd been too afraid of my mother, and what she would have to say. And maybe now, without my death looming in the evening, if I had managed to get this far without something tragic having to happen, I still would be afraid of her response.

 

But when I glance over at her, there's only a wistful smile on her face. Her eyes catch mine, and she flushes and returns to the eggs before they burn. Suddenly, my heart aches. Why had I read too much into her response at the time? She'd only been surprised…

 

How much had it hurt her to keep her locked out of my heart?

 

"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire," my dad suddenly sings loudly in his baritone, bellying the piano. "Jack Frost nipping at your nose…"

 

"Yuletide carols being sung by a choir, and folks dressed up like Eskimos," I add, softly, a little off-key. I haven't sung in so long. We used to go caroling all the time, when I was younger. First for church, and then on our own sometimes, too.

 

"Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe help to make the season bright," Riku sings lightly, hesitantly. I don't even think I've ever heard him sing before, but a furtive glance from him warns me not to giggle.

 

"Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow will find it hard to sleep tonight," Mom finishes in her soprano. She slides the last of the fried eggs onto a plate, and then prepares to scramble some others. Those are for Roxas. He hates fried eggs. "They know that Santa's on his way… he's loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh… and every mother's child is gonna spy to see if reindeer really know how to fly…"

 

 _And so I'm offering this simple phrase—for kids from one to ninety-two… although it's been said many times, many ways, Merry Christmas to you…_ I finish silently in my head as she trails off.

 

Roxas starts on a new song, and Mom loses all patience. Handing the spatula over to Dad, she stalks out of the room and wipes her hands on her apron. Riku and I exchange a glance, and when I look back over my shoulder, it's to see that Axel isn't there at all. Why does he keep dropping in like that today? It's gotten a lot more frequent…

 

"Merry Christmas to you," I breathe to no one.

 

"Mmm? You say something?" Riku murmurs.

 

"Nope," I whisper.

 

The music stops abruptly. Dad finishes up on the stove, scooping Roxas's share of eggs onto his plate, and then drags over fat pieces of ham. It's a wonder I'm skinny. It's a wonder we all are. On Mom's cooking, we should be fat cows by now.

 

"I don't know what's wrong with you," Mom is saying tersely to my twin, "but you need to knock it off. I'm not going to have you ruin today. Now sit down. Lunch will be ready in a minute."

 

Roxas seats himself across from us, his eyes downcast, sullen. My heart aches for him despite everything that's happened. What does Riku feel? It's even worse for him. Does he feel torn between the two of us?

 

His hand settles on my knee beneath the table. "You haven't lost your touch on the piano," he offers to Roxas.

 

Roxas's blue eyes dart up and then narrow. Suspicion colors his face. He says nothing, though, his lips compressed. He's hurting, and it's worse now because he has to sit across from us and watch us be together while he's left out yet again, and it's infinitely more painful now than it's ever been before.

 

The ham is done a handful of minutes later, and the stove is shut off. Mom and Dad bring the two plates over to the table. Steaming eggs, warm pancakes. I notice that the latter are shaped like Santa heads. I grin at the sight of them.

 

"These are great, Mom," I say.

 

"You haven't even tasted them yet, Sora," she says breathlessly, pushing her bangs out of her eyes.

 

And without further ado, we all dig in.

 

* * *

 

Mom departs with Dad after lunch is finished and everything is cleaned up. She claims she has some last minute shopping to do. I know it's because of my unexpected appearance with Riku. I worry for the presents I haven't gotten her. Coming here wasn't a spontaneous decision; however, I'd just had so many things on my mind…

 

"I'll go, too," Riku says after they've left. "You want to come, or do you want me to find something for her on my own?" He knows how I hate shopping in huge crowds. He hates it, too, but I hate it more.

 

Grateful he's read my mind, I smile up at him from the bed. I'm positioned on the edge of it, and he's already pulling on his coat, his scarf in place. "I should probably work on my story." I know I should go with him, to spend as much time as I can with him before it's up, but Riku isn't the only reason I let Axel reset time.

 

"You're such a workaholic," he jokes. He bends in to kiss me, and he lingers. I hum, gripping onto his sweater. His fingers glide through my hair. Regretfully, he pulls away, and I wave good-bye. I even pull open my laptop, seated beside me, to appear convincing. Taking that as his cue, he departs.

 

I wait until the front door's shut behind him before closing my laptop and climbing to my feet to go and find my brother. I get halfway there when my phone rings. I halt, torn. No one ever calls me anymore. They don't want to deal with Sora McCrabby. It could be my boss. I should probably answer it. Indecision wars within me.

 

Finally, I lunge back to my nightstand and get it on the last ring. "'Lo?" I pant.

 

"Sora?" The familiar voice lets me know it's Squall.

 

Awh, man. Work related. "Hey, man, what's up?" I force myself to chirp. Where is Roxas, and how am I going to corner him without him brushing me off?

 

"Have you made any progress on your story? Rinoa says you like follow-ups periodically."

 

"We just talked yesterday," I said, distracted now, and pull my attention back to Squall. "I gave you my outline."

 

In the background, I hear typing. "Rinoa is pregnant," he says. "These sort of things don't matter to her right now. I promised I'd give you a call."

 

Well, that makes sense. Sort of. I've never been around a pregnant woman to know how one acts, but I can imagine. "Okay—but I don't think I'm working on anything until after Christmas," I say. "I need a vacation."

 

He chuckles. The sound of it is actually very nice, startling me. "On average, you pump out four novels a year. I suppose I can give you a couple of days to rest. Happy Holidays, Sora."

 

"You, too," I reply, and we hang up. I toss the phone at the bed without another glance and finish my escape from my bedroom.

 

* * *

 

Locating Roxas is harder than it seems. He's not downstairs anymore. Nor is he in his bedroom back upstairs. For a moment, I stand in the outside hallway, confused, my brows furrowed. Where would he be? He hates the cold, but after a moment, I venture downstairs again to the kitchen. From there, I clomp down into the mudroom and head into the back yard.

 

Snow is falling in gentle white sheets. I shiver instantly and cuddle my arms around myself for warmth. I left my jacket inside like an idiot. My eyes scan the area, taking in the few trees here and there and the sea of white. There's footprints from visiting family the day before, and they're mostly all covered up now—nothing fresh.

 

I frown. Did he just leave and I hadn't known it?

 

"Lookin' for Roxy?"

 

I whip around. Axel smiles at me straight in my face, and I stumble back and nearly fall flat on my ass. Fuck. Had that really been necessary? I glare at him and right myself, dusting snow off my pants before it can soak in. Is he having fun, continuously encroaching on my personal space?

 

"Don't call him that," I say. It reminds me too much of…

 

"Still being sensitive? I thought we'd moved beyond all that." Death waves a hand, his lips still stretched in a broad grin.

 

"Look, what do you want? Don't you have better things to be doing?" I say gruffly. "Like, you know, visiting people who actually haven't died yet?"

 

"I can be in hundreds of different places at once," he says offhandedly, almost as though it's nothing at all, nothing special, to be omnipresent. "Otherwise I wouldn't be very good at my job, would I? Now, Sora—listen, there's something you should know…"

 

I'm growing irritated. I have maybe ten hours left of my "life," and he's hassling me! What's the point of this? Is he afraid I'm going to bail out? "What is there that you haven't told me already?" I clench my hands into fists at my sides. "I'm going to die on Christmas Eve? Got it. I can't tell anyone about my plight? Got it. If I try to avoid dying—" I trail off here, rather abruptly—but it's because Axel vanishes, and I'm too surprised to finish. My voice just dies into nothing. Seconds later, Roxas appears by the door to the mudroom, one hand on the frame.

 

"Who are you talking to?" he asks suspiciously, and I don't miss the odd look he throws my way.

 

My throat grows dry. How much has he heard? Nothing incriminating. Axel, thankfully, vanished before I could say anything that would jeopardize the whole situation. Unfortunately, Roxas hasn't let up from his suspicious stare, and it's making me uneasy. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, then cut my eyes away.

 

"No one," I say.

 

My twin folds his arms. "Don't lie to me, Sora. You've been acting _really_ weird lately. First, you get all lovey-dovey with Riku again, then you come here for Christmas to make up with Mom and Dad after totally not saying a _word_ to them for five years, and now you're out here talking to yourself…" He narrows his eyes. "What's up with that, huh? What's going on?"

 

"Nothing." I can't look at him. It's too painful. Surprisingly, there hadn't been anything too biting in his words—just dully stated facts, like he was growing tired of thinking about the whole thing and just wanted to pretend it had never happened. I wish it was that easy for me. I would gladly take the same road if I could.

 

"Knock it off, Sora. C'mon. Why the sudden interest in Riku?"

 

Now I'm irritated again. All the anger lingering around me from Axel's off and on appearances swings forward with a vengeance. It has to go somewhere. It can only be held back for so long, and it's been mounting for the last four days.

 

"Does it _matter_?" I snap at him. I came out here to talk to him, about this very subject in fact, yet it's not going the way I want it to at all. "He's my boyfriend. I love him. What is it any concern to _you_ what I—" No, no, no. This is the old Sora. This is not the new and improved Sora. This is not—

 

Roxas sneers. He actually sneers at me. I've never seen him look so disgusted, and it's devastating. I can handle anything he throws at me. Not wanting to be my twin anymore—not wanting to be close anymore—but disgust, taking my lover from me… those are things that cut me the most. I don't need his approval. But I shouldn't be repulsive, either. We're blood. Flesh and blood. The only difference on our bodies is our damn finger prints.

 

"Yeah, figures," he says. "There's the old Sora we all know and love."

 

Part of me wants to backhand him for being such a little shit. He _stole_ Riku from me—and he didn't even wait until we weren't together anymore to—

 

"We never slept together, you know," he carries on. "Everything else, but sex is where he drew the line." Pain fills Roxas's face now, and it's his turn to look away. His sneer curves into a rueful smile edged in bitterness. "He loves you too much. He couldn't betray you like that. But finally he seemed like he was caving. And then you—" He lets out a harsh breath, and it clouds the air.

 

"I love him," I say thickly, my eyes wet. Where has my anger from moments ago gone? It was so ready to be let out. Now it's all but vanished, just like Axel's trick. Almost as good, too. The resentment is hardly there anymore. "I'm sorry. I know you love him, too. But he wants me more, Roxas."

 

Color floods his cheeks, and I can see it even from here. "That's not—"

 

"I would give him to you if I could," I choke. God, this isn't manly at all. I've shed so many damn tears lately. I'm such a baby. I can accept it. I can swallow my pride for this. "I would. I was prepared to. I gave him a choice."

 

"No, you—"

 

"Yes, I did." I take a step forward. All of me is shaking, down to the very marrow of my bones. "And if anything ever happened to me, I would want you two to be together, I'd want you to be happy together, I wouldn't stop it. But I'm here now, and I love him. Is that so wrong? He chose me, Roxas. I'm sorry."

 

Roxas grits his teeth. He steps out into the snow with me. He, too, does not have a jacket on, and he hasn't donned his skull cap, either. He's as vulnerable to the elements as I am. "Stop it. I don't want your pity!"

 

"It's not pity." I can taste salt on my lips. "I'm being honest with you. You're my brother, and I love you."

 

"You would give him to me?" Roxas shakes his head furiously, and his hands curl into fists. He lowers his head, his eyes squeezed shut. "That's not true, and it never has been! You've always hogged him, right from the very beginning! Even though I was the one who found him first, even though I—"

 

"He's his own person, Roxas." I try to stay calm in the outlash of his anger, but it's so hard. "He has to choose who he wants, regardless of who he met first. I know you think I stole him—"

 

"You _did_!" Roxas snaps.

 

"I _didn't_!" I counter hoarsely. I have to believe in that. I didn't before—I thought I'd stolen him, too. Most of my life, I've known that Roxas resented me for it. But all I ever did was be myself. I never set out to try and make Riku like me more. I'm not that kind of person. Roxas likes to believe it of me, and it's simply not true.

 

And there's no easy way to tell him that. It will come out cruel, no matter how I say it. Besides, I already have. Riku likes me more. I can't state it any plainer than that—and still Roxas ignores me.

 

"I know you love him," I say. "I do."

 

"You don't!" Roxas says fiercely. "You have no idea how much I—"

 

"I know more than you think!" I would rather die than have to live without him—than have to deal with the thought of him loving someone more than me. I had died. I couldn't bear it. I can't be without him. That's as true now as it was four days ago.

 

"Just quit it, Sora! If you knew, you would have let him go!"

 

"If _you_ knew, you would know that I can't!" We're nearly nose to nose now. Roxas is furious, I'm desperately sad. I realize suddenly that I can never make him understand—it's not a waste of time, because I tried. But… he'll never get it. He can't. He's got too much of that bitterness built up.

 

"I'm sorry," I breathe. My voice has fallen to nothing more than a whisper.

 

"I said stop it!" He whips away now, putting his back to me. He's already storming back inside the house. "I don't want your pity, Sora. I never have."

 

"I'm sorry," I say again, more loudly.

 

He keeps walking. He doesn't want to hear anymore.

 

I follow him, stumbling over my steps. My hands land on his shoulders. "Roxas, listen to me—I am sorry—"

 

He pushes my hands away.

 

"Roxas, please—just _listen to me_ —"

 

"I have nothing to say to you!" he yells. He shoves, and I stumble again. I'm back up almost instantly, gripping onto the front of his shoulders this time and pulling him close.

 

"Stop it—Roxas, stop being like this—" I can't expect him to understand. I know this. He never will, I guess. Why should he? But I… Is everything completely ruined? Is nothing fixable? I knew when this started out that it wouldn't be easy… I even knew that it likely wouldn't change, in the end… four days, as I've said before—it isn't enough to do hardly anything… But I repaired things so easily with Riku. Maybe I thought that that would make it easy with Roxas, too. Of course it wouldn't be. There's so much more pain here.

 

"Being like what?" he shouts at me. "How do you expect me to act, Sora?"

 

 _Like you give a shit about me!_ I want to scream at him. "If I could want him to like someone more, it would be you! Okay? It would! _No_ ," I say, grabbing him more firmly when he starts shaking his head again. "No, okay? It _would_! But there isn't anything I can do about it—"

 

"Give him up." He shoves more firmly this time. I don't trip, though I do get the wind knocked out of me. This is the closest we've ever come to blows. Roxas and I have always been placid as brothers. There was wrestling—nothing serious.

 

"No," I say hoarsely. "I shouldn't have to."

 

"You didn't _care_ about him!" Here, Roxas's face wrenches with actual pain. "You took advantage of him—you took for _granted_ that he was there!"

 

He really doesn't understand. Not at all. Not in the least. Or maybe he doesn't want to. Maybe he knows he's wrong, but if he listened to himself, it would make it that much harder to hate me. I swallow heavily and lower my eyes, my arms.

 

"That's not true," I whisper.

 

"It _is_ —"

 

"It's not," I say, more firmly. "I've loved Riku for as long as I can remember. Maybe I took for granted that he was there… but I never stopped loving him. I couldn't see the way I was behaving, I couldn't see that I was pushing him away, and I thought that he didn't love _me_ anymore." I look away. My heart feels hollow.

 

"Then you're an idiot," Roxas says tightly, his voice strained. I can't look at him. I don't want to see tears in his eyes, too.

 

"Yeah," I agree.

 

He turns away again. I let him. The door slams so hard the window panes rattle. I flinch, then look out into the neighbor's yard. It's covered in a perfect layer of snow. I feel the sudden urge to go mess it up, run around in it, toss it everywhere. I stay rooted to the spot, biting my lip. My shoulders feel heavier than ever.

 

This isn't going to be easy. But I planted the seed. _If I'm not here, I want the two of you to be happy together._ Not exactly what I said, though mostly so. He'll just have to take me at my word for it. He's got a waiting time of less than ten hours. Hardly anything at all, in the grand scheme of things.

 

God.

 

I really am sorry, Roxas. But you love him, too. Can't you comprehend what I'm going through? What I feel? I know your side of things. I can see why you would be absolutely furious with me. But I think you know in your heart that this isn't my fault. You treaded where you shouldn't have. You committed adultery. No matter what the reasons, most would call that unforgivable. But you're my brother. I can't hate you. I wanted to. At first. When I jumped, when I died. I wanted to hate you so very badly. Riku more. Things have changed since then. Yes, part of it was my fault—not all of it. I see that, I understand it. Not all of it.

 

I hope Riku hurries back soon. I really need to hold him. I need to feel alive while I still have the chance.

 

This is my last day to live, and it's already halfway over. I've got to do what I can.


	7. The Clock Struck Twelve

There is nothing to do. The parents are out, Riku is, too, and Roxas isn't speaking to me. I throw on a sweater and head upstairs into the attic, intent on doing—I don't know, _something_. Maybe sort through all of Mom's old ornaments, or dig out some memories. Anything to just give me something to _do_.

 

Boxes meet greet my immediate vision when I climb up far enough, and when I get up all the way, I find that they're neatly stacked everywhere. Huh. That's a change. Guess that took care of that job. Frowning, bummed, I venture deeper into the attic, searching.

 

The boxes are all labeled. Some are dated as old as when I was a baby—some before then. Getting dust up my nose each time, I open and close boxes, sometimes just to see what's inside of them. My sneezes ring out through the quiet atmosphere. It's really cold up here, but that's what the sweater is for.

 

Finally, I unearth a box of photo albums. My throat tight, I hesitate. I go to reach into them, to pull some out, but I stop. Do I really want to do this? It's going to be depressing as hell, I know it is, so why torture myself that way?

 

I sit down by the box, looking all around me. This place used to be a hideout for Riku, my brother, and me. We'd hang out up here all day. We had the boxes organized to how we wanted them, situated in a way that provided a sort of fort. Old sheets were hung up, a kaleidoscope posed as a telescope to peer out the tiny window at the world below, and hats were donned, jewelry from Mom's box was treasure.

 

Smiling at the thought of that, I tilt my head back and close my eyes. That was back when Roxas and me still had the same hair color, and he didn't buy his out of a box. No one could tell us apart except our parents and Riku. Even other relatives had trouble. We were so close…

 

I hear lone notes ring out from the piano. Roxas is making music again. This time it's not something I recognize. It's muffled, so I can't tell if it's his own piece, or if it's some tune I can't make out properly. Either way, it's haunting, sad. Perfect for the atmosphere. My heart twists with grief. He used to write happy music. Why did it have to change? Why did everything have to get so… destroyed?

 

"Hey, kid. You're lookin' a little melancholy. Where's your fire, eh?"

 

Slowly, my eyes open. I know who to expect, so I'm not surprised when I see Axel leaning over me, a grin on his face, his hands on his knees. His scythe is absent, and his hood is down. I forgot how spiky his hair really is.

 

"What do you want?" I mutter. Is he going to finish what he started earlier before Roxas interrupted? I find myself not looking forward to it. Death constantly lingering around me can't be a good thing—except it sort of makes sense, doesn't it? I _am_ about to die. Again.

 

"Just want to know how you're holding up." Death shrugs. "Not getting any second thoughts, are you?"

 

I glare at him, putting everything I'm feeling into it, every bit of angst. I want to lash out at my situation, protest what's going to happen to me, and I accepted long ago that I'm stuck with what I've got. Having "second thoughts" will just get me in trouble. "Of course not."

 

"Good."

 

And just like that, he's gone.

 

I tilt my head back to its proper position, and my heart gives a little start. Axel isn't gone at all. He's sitting directly across from me now, his arms folded loosely in his lap. After recovering from that bit of fright, I glare at him again. Honestly. Can't he just walk around like a normal person?

 

"I didn't scare you the first time, so I thought I'd try again." Axel grins at me unabashedly. Thinking on it, I suppose he does have an awfully annoying habit of popping up when I least expect it. He enjoys this, doesn't he?

 

I huff and look away. "What do you want?"

 

"There's something you ought to know," he tells me for the second time. "Something important." His fingers drum on his knees, and he purses his lips and lets his gaze drift up. The sun hits his fiery hair and makes it look blood red.

 

So I was right. He wants to finish what he started earlier.

 

"Yeah?" I prompt, when he isn't exactly forthcoming with the information.

 

"Good deeds don't go unrewarded. Sometimes it seems like that at first—but in the end, you get what you reap. Life is funny like that, eh?" Axel shrugs his shoulders.

 

My heart flutters hopefully for a moment, biting onto his bait. "So I won't have to go to hell?"

 

He slants his eyes my way, and there's something in them that makes my flesh break out in goosebumps. It's that creepy look he does so well, the one where he seems ancient, where I know he can look into my soul and see everything that's written on it. Like this, I know he really is Death.

 

"If you kill yourself, you go to hell, kid—remember? All part of what religion you followed at the time of your death. Catholicism ain't changing their viewpoint on that anytime soon." Abruptly, his eyes change back to his good, smug cheer. "Nice try, though."

 

Then what the hell was the point of that comment? Annoyed, I stand up and dust off my legs. "I have to get back downstairs."

 

"So Roxy can yell at you some more?"

 

I don't even bother looking at him as I make my way carefully around the boxes and back toward the pull-down stairs. "Don't call him that."

 

I trip a couple of times on the way out, but eventually I make it there in one piece. When I glance back over my shoulder to where I'd been sitting with Death, I find that he's gone. Dust motes glide along in the sun's rays, and I'm reminded of the other day when I laid in bed with Riku for hours, just talking. My throat tight, I duck downstairs.

 

* * *

 

_Riku sits in the pew, his head bowed down, his bangs covering his eyes. His cheeks are wet. His hands are curled into fists in his lap. The priest drones on from the front of the church, and after a moment, he invites those who want to speak to come forward. Riku stays where he is. His lips tighten. He looks angry._

_Beside him, Roxas chews on his lip. His eyes stare straight ahead, but one can tell by looking at him that he's not paying attention to any of his surroundings. He's found a spot to fix his gaze on, and he zones out there. There are shadows under his eyes, though, and his eyes themselves are red-rimmed and haunted. His button-down shirt is wrinkled and rolled up at the elbows. He looks like he hasn't slept in days._

_Mom is crying into Dad's handkerchief. Her shoulders shake, and her hair is carefully curled and pulled back off her shoulders. Her tears are silent. Only the occasional shuddery breath escapes from her. People are casting pitying glances in her direction. She remains oblivious, lost in her own grief. She looks heart-broken, devastated, and as though she'll never recover._

 

_"I just don't understand," she sobs. It's a few moments before she can go on, and when she does, her breath hitches over nearly every word. "I thought—he—was happy again… I thought… he… was happy…"_

 

* * *

 

I stumble against the wall on my way to the dining room. I blink rapidly, disoriented, trying to peel one world from the other. The premonition bleeds into reality with such clarity that I can't tell the two apart for a long time. Mom's sobs are still ringing in my ears. Finally, though, I can see again, see clearly.

 

The first thing I do is whirl around to try and find Axel. He's not here, though. Nowhere to be seen. Frustrated, I put my fists to my still wet eyes and try to breathe normally again. My heart hurts. Why is this happening to me? Why do I keep seeing the future? I don't want to know what happens—I just want to pass from this life into the next and be completely unaware of the goings-on in the world I left behind.

 

I grit my teeth and bear it. There's nothing to be done about it. I can only swallow my grief and move on. I still have things to do. Reaching out to my brother whether he wants me to or not is one of them.

 

He's at the piano still, though his hands rest above the keys, not moving. One finger goes to press down and stops. After a long moment, he lifts his head to look at me. I stop, swallowing. There's nothing in his eyes, no anger, no sadness, just a sort of… deadness. It hurts to see it. He should never have to feel that way.

 

"What do you want, Sora?" he asks flatly.

 

"Not to fight anymore," I whisper.

 

A half-smile crooks his lips, and he drops his eyes to his piano. This time, his thumb moves down and hits the key he neglected to touch earlier. It's deep and foreboding. "Too late for that one," he says.

 

I take a step forward and reach out to him. "Roxas, I don't want to—"

 

He brushes my hand away when it lands on his shoulder. Every time he does that, it cuts at me. Am I really so repulsive to him? Can't this just get any better, or does it have to keep spiraling worse and worse and out of control?

 

My throat closes up. "What are you going to be doing at midnight tonight?"

 

He gets up from the bench and doesn't look at me again. His fingertips rest over the keys. "I was thinking about leaving after dinner, to go out and maybe get a little drunk. It'd sure make this easier to deal with." He finally lifts his eyes back to me, and his half-smile seems more real. "You want to come, Sora?"

 

My heart surges in my chest. I start to answer yes, yes anything, just to spend time with him, but—

 

"Careful, careful, Sora," Axel suddenly hisses in my ear. I feel him right behind me, a powerful lurking presence that I just can't seem to shake. Death. Lingering. My spine tightens, and I fight the urge to shudder. I won't back down. "You have things to do at midnight."

 

Like throwing myself off the nearest balcony.

 

"I want to," I hear myself say. "But I can't."

 

Any sort of promise that had been in Roxas's eyes slides away, shuts me out. I can see the doors closing, and I know that all the chances I had are now gone. Roxas isn't going to be letting me in again, at least not anytime soon.

 

"You can't, huh? Figures."

 

"My medicine," I explain, and I remember that it's true, and a valid reason, and that even if I wanted to go out, I couldn't. I've gone so long without taking it that I forgot what it's like to be on it again. I have to be careful about everything I ingest. "I can't mix it with alcohol."

 

"Yeah, but you could have a drink or two," Roxas counters, clearly not willing to drop the subject just yet. Maybe he just wants to keep picking his bone with me. I can't say I blame him. I'd have a bone to pick with me, too.

 

"I could," I agree. "But it's not a lot of fun with me, trust me." I hesitate, getting ready to say the words I know I need to say. For some reason, they refuse to come out for a moment. It's like letting something go, I realize. Something important that I'm latched onto that I can't bear to be without, but for tonight, I have to.

 

"Sora…?" Roxas sees something in my gaze that's being unsaid.

 

"You should take Riku," I rush to say. I place both my hands on his shoulders. He leaves them there for the moment as his eyes turn sharp. "Take him with you. It'll be fine." _Lies, lies, lies, it won't be fine, it won't._ But what else am I supposed to do? Mom and Dad are early sleepers, and they won't be up when it's time to make my debut to hell. Riku, on the other hand, is going to be hard to shake. We share a room.

 

"What, you trust us to get drunk together?" Roxas's chuckle is harsh and grating in my ears. He steps out of my hands and away from the bench so he doesn't back into it. He's already starting to walk away from me. "I don't think so."

 

"Why not?"

 

"You think I'm going to let you test me? You'll lose this game, Sora." Roxas pivots to face me, his hands on his hips. "I can't control myself around Riku when I'm drunk. That's how this whole thing started." Oh, God, I don't want to hear this, I _can't_ hear this—

 

"He can be really cutting when he wants to be, can't he?" Admiration colors Axel's voice. I want to punch him.

 

"He came up to see me one night after work," Roxas goes on. His shoulders shrug lightly, his eyes turn coy. "One drink led to another, and…"

 

"You already told me you haven't had sex with him," I interrupt, perhaps a little more bitter than I meant to sound. "Knock it off, Roxas. What are you trying to prove? I trust Riku. It's not you I have to trust. It was just an idea."

 

"What, throwing me together with someone I can't have?" Roxas's face twists into something like pain, and I drop my eyes to my feet quickly. "Now why would you go and do a thing like that, huh?" The words are light, but I can hear how tight his throat is, like mine had been.

 

"You're still friends," I say. "I'd be an ass to take that away from you."

 

"Or smart," he counters. He shakes his head and turns around, heading out of the room. "Don't follow me. I'm sorry I asked."

 

I let him go. As he vanishes from my sight, so, too, does the presence at my shoulder melt away.

 

* * *

 

Riku returns before my parents do. He drops our gifts on my bed, packages he clearly had someone wrap for him, as neither of us can fold paper that well. I trace my fingers over the pretty designs on each, musing on how Mom and Dad won't want to open these after my fall from the balcony tonight. Maybe they never will. Maybe it'll be too painful.

 

"Riku, I need you to do something for me," I nearly whisper. My throat's dried up. This takes a great deal of trust, something I'm not sure I have. In a normal circumstance, I wouldn't have it at all. Then again, in a normal circumstance, I'd be dead already, and it wouldn't matter.

 

"Anything," he says, and he sits beside me to put his arm around my shoulders and draw me into him. "What's up, Sora?"

 

I snuggle in close to his side, eager to get as much affection from him as I came before my time is up. "Roxas is going out drinking tonight. Can you go with him as a sort of chaperone? I'm worried he'll do something stupid…"

 

Riku's lean body tenses against me. His hand starts to fall away. "Sora, why are you…" He trails off and puts his hands in his lap.

 

I hide my face in his shoulder. "Please do this for me? Please? I trust you, okay, I just—I can't go myself. My medicine, and he won't want me to come…" Despite how he invited me. Riku need not know that. And by the time he does, it'll be too late.

 

"Sora…" He still sounds hesitant—worse, wary. He thinks I'm testing him. Just like Roxas said. This isn't good. It's not a test at all. Not really. It's just a way to ensure that what needs to get done… gets done. That's all it is. I wish I can tell him that. I can't.

 

"Do this for me? You said anything." I hate to throw his words back in his face. I've got to do what I've got to do. "I trust you," I say again. And if anything happens… well… I won't be here to do anything about it… they can be together while I'm gone… it's only fair… I don't want them to be unhappy again…

 

Shit. I'm tearing up. Not good. He'll start to question me more than he already is. He'll think it's what it's not.

 

I rise to my feet and quickly brush at my eyes before he can see them. When I'm done, I twist back to face him, trying on a grin. The muscles of my mouth feel strained. I don't do this often enough. "It'll be okay, Riku. I promise."

 

He tilts his head back to peer up at me. His bangs are hanging in his eyes. They need a trim. I'll need to cut them—no, I can't. Someone else will have to. What will he do once I'm gone? Will he realize he has to make hair appointments? Will he make Roxas cut them? I won't be there. I…

 

Tears rise fast in my eyes again, turning them hot. The lump in my throat refuses to go away. Damn. Despite all my best intentions, I still…

 

"Sora, what's wrong?" Riku grasps onto my hands and tugs me close. I stumble in against him, and our knees brush. "Talk to me. What's going on? Do we need to talk about Roxas?" He lowers his eyes now, briefly biting onto his lip. It takes him a few moments to gather up whatever words he wants to say. "…I'll go if you want me to. But why are you doing this?" He sighs and lets me go to rub his hands over his face. "I don't want to say this, but it feels like you're testing me, Sora, and I'm not sure what to think about that."

 

I'm not, but even if I was, would it be so wrong? He only came out into the open about his affair just last night. "It's not like that, okay?" I take in a shuddery breath, let it go. "I'm always honest with you—except about the pills." His eyes cut to mine, and hurt flickers there. Sorry, Riku. I know it hurts, but it's the truth. I tell the truth. I don't hide things from you. Things enough to send you teetering over the edge. "You have no reason not to trust me."

 

"And you have every reason not to trust me." He stands up and grasps onto my arms. I have to crane my neck to meet his eyes, and even then, my breath is a little short at the intensity in them. "Sora, I need you to know that I love you. I thought you didn't love me anymore, I thought we were over…"

 

I close my lips against the words that want to come out. They're biting, hurtful. I can't do this with him. I can't spend the last hours we have together fighting.

 

"What happened with Roxas…" He closes his eyes as pain clouds them. His face turns just slightly away from mine. "I just—I guess I just don't understand how you can be so forgiving! If it was the other way around, I couldn't forgive you. It'd be too much. I couldn't handle you cheating on me."

 

 _I can't handle you cheating on me, either._ But you don't know that, Riku. You won't know. Not until tonight. God, what are you going to think of me now? "I love you, too, and I'm not selfish enough to think that none of it was my fault. I had a helping hand in this. It's my fault you thought I didn't love you."

 

"But if you love someone, there's no excuse to do what I did…"

 

"That's not up to you, that's up to me, and I say I'm fine with it. What were you supposed to do?" He's letting me go, walking away from me, pacing over to the window. I stay where I am. His hand buries itself in his hair.

 

"I could have broken it off with you. It would have been better than going behind your back."

 

"You didn't have sex with him." My voice cracks on the words. It surprises me—I thought I have myself more together than that. I guess I'm wrong. "Okay? You didn't, so—"

 

"Did Roxas tell you that?" The words are low, ominous, a rumble of thunder in my heart. It quickens, and I tense all over, muscles straining. I don't want to hear this. I don't. Instinctively, I know where it's going. At the same time, I know I can't make it stop.

 

"He did," I whisper. I'm staring at his back, at the line of his shoulders. His sweater looks so good on him, and his jeans on his ass are even better. He's always been mine, until recently, until I began to pull away from him. I think on this, in mute disbelief that my brother would have lied to my face like that. How naïve am I?

 

"He was trying to make you feel better." I can't see Riku's face. I can't see what he's thinking. I can only hear those soft, albeit firm words. Deep. Not reassuring at all. "I don't know why he would have said it, but it's a lie. I have slept with him."

 

"Riku, don't…" I can't listen to this. I can't. I'll fall apart, I'll—

 

"If I closed my eyes, I could pretend it was you…" Riku sounds a little choked now. I fight to stand my ground, to not go to him. I want to leave, too, I want to put my hands over my ears and block it all out. "I'd tell him not to say anything, because your voices are different. I'd keep the lights off. Anything that would make it seem like I wasn't fucking your brother. Anything to make it seem like you still wanted me." His laugh is a dry rasp. "It never worked, you know. No matter how hard I tried…"

 

I take a step back, trembling from head to toe. I want to rail against this, to protest. I feel torn. I feel angry at Riku, I feel sad for my twin. He still hasn't ever gotten what he wanted. It wasn't like he was imagining it at all, I know that much. God, that must have cut him so deep.

 

"So the truth comes out," Axel purrs in my ear. As usual, I shiver when he's this close to me. He's so cold. He's death looming on the horizon. Images flicker before my mind's eye, Riku crying in the pew, Riku curled up with his phone, listening to my voice message over and over.

 

My eyes clench shut. "Who started it?" I breathe. "Did he, or—"

 

"I did." Riku exhales noisily.

 

No, don't, don't—

 

don't, i don't want to listen

 

please don't tell me

 

please

 

"Every time."

 

* * *

 

I left my jacket inside, my scarf, my trapper, my gloves. The wind slaps cold against my face as I fling the front door open and fly down the steps at a straight run. Ice is slick on the driveway, covered in slush, and I slip but catch my bearings a moment later. I make it to the mailbox, then the sidewalk, and from there, I've got nothing to stop me, nothing to obstruct my path.

 

My lungs burn, protest. A cramp develops in my side. I'm so out of shape. I focus on the pain, letting it give me more energy. I use it to run faster. I can't stop. I can't let the agony eating at my heart steal me away. I have to shake this off. I have to make it. I've got hours left to go. It can't all end now.

 

Riku instigated every session with Roxas. Roxas never told him no. Riku was using Roxas as a replacement for me when I couldn't give him what he wanted, and Roxas let him. Riku's words ring in my head, that there's no excuse for what he did, and I want to believe them right then, because it hurts so much, what he told me. It hurts so fucking much.

 

I ache for me. I ache for Roxas. I want to throw something, smash something. I want to do something crazy, wild. Anything to escape the reality of what he did. It hurts more now than seeing that picture of the two of them embracing did. That's what started all of this. That stupid, stupid picture. And now I'm—

 

Unable to run any longer, I stumble against a tree. I've gone out of the neighborhood into a patch of woods blanketed in snow, and here I let all my grief out. I cry, I rail against the world. The bare branches spin above me, a cage against the sky, and I slump down the bark of my post until I'm curled up at its base. Snow seeps into my jeans. It's cold here, so cold. My face feels flushed from my tears and wind-chapped both.

 

Why did he tell me that? All of those things? I don't have to know them, I don't. Does it make him feel better, to unload himself like that? To devastate me like that? Does he want me to hate him? Does he want me to push him away? Does he think he doesn't deserve my forgiveness? Does it make him feel guilty?

 

Good! He should feel guilty! He should hate what he's done to me!

 

The sobs won't stop coming. I can't breathe. I can't think. I just want to curl up into a ball out here and die in the cold where no one can find me. I want this to be over. It's too painful. It's worse now. It feels like someone has scraped my heart raw with blunt knives. I can't make it go away. I can't shake it off. I can't forget.

 

I can't forget.

 

* * *

 

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Axel leans on the tree across from me, his arms folded. His hood is back up, and his voice is impassive. I stay curled up, my arms around my knees, my forehead resting on them. "You knew it would. Yet you pressed, anyway."

 

I try to ignore him, to shut him out. I don't know why he's rubbing my face in it. I know I can't make him go away, so I don't bother trying.

 

"So you see, giving him to Roxas won't help, anyway. Even when he was with your brother, all he really wanted was you. That probably kills him, doesn't it? Roxy, I mean."

 

I don't have the energy to tell him not to call Roxas that. I stay mute. I want it all to go away, and I don't know how to make it so. The conversation with Riku, the revelation, keeps replaying in my head, over and over, like a badly recorded film.

 

Death lets out a long breath, a very drawn out sigh. "Well, at least you'll go to your grave knowing the truth. And Riku will live his next few years layered in guilt for what he pushed you to do. He'll tell himself that he shouldn't have said anything, that he should have kept it to himself, if it kept you alive."

 

_Go away, go away, go away!_

 

"Then, once he's tired of feeling guilty, he'll tell himself that there wasn't anything wrong in saying the truth, that it was better that you knew it instead of the two of you living in a lie. He'll move on, find happiness with someone else, resolve not to lie or cheat ever again, and that'll be the end of it."

 

"You're just Death," I hear myself say hollowly. "You can't tell the future."

 

"But oh, contraire." Axel pushes away from the tree. "It doesn't take a physic to see the obvious. It's all happened dozens of times before. I'm no stranger to it. I claim everyone in the end eventually. No one escapes me. I see their life stories. I'm with you in the beginning, you know?"

 

"Why, because we're dying from the moment we're born?" I lift my head. "Maybe I should just go ahead and end this early."

 

"You could," he replies. "It'd be easier, wouldn't it?"

 

I look away. Nothing about this is easy. It never has been.

 

"It's up to you." He flicks his wrist, taps it. There's no watch there. "It is now 6:30 in the evening," he says. "Tick tock, tick tock." He vanishes, leaving me alone in the surrounding dark.

 

* * *

 

I come back inside, frozen stiff. Mom and Dad are home now. The former takes one look at me and ushers me to the bathroom.

 

"I've been worried _sick_!" she says. "Riku said you just rushed out. Go on, take a bath, dinner is almost ready. We can eat when you get out." She rubs my arms all the way upstairs. "You're like _ice_ , Sora. What were you thinking? It's too cold out there! Not even a jacket on… surprised you didn't get frostbite… your pants are _soaked_ …"

 

Numbly, I let her guide me. When I'm alone in the bathroom, I strip, the movements almost mechanical, purely functional, and I get the hot water running. I stare at it for some time, perched on the edge of the tub, thinking.

 

 _Well, look at the bright side, Sora_ , I think. _When you're dead, you won't have to deal with this anymore._ No. The nightmare will just get worse.

 

The water from the bath soaks into my bones. It's still not enough, not nearly enough. There's a chill in my heart that won't go away. I pull the drain, towel off, shivering in the cool air, wrap that towel around my waist, and head to my room.

 

Riku sits up on my bed, staring at me. In seconds, he's climbed over the edge of it and is walking toward me. He stops just centimeters from me, searching my eyes, clearly wanting to touch me and making himself not. Not until he knows what I'm thinking.

 

"I tried to follow you," he says. "But by the time I got downstairs, you were long gone."

 

I don't say anything.

 

"Sora… I shouldn't have said it to you like that…" he whispers, dropping his eyes. "I don't know what I was thinking… I guess I—"

 

"You felt guilty." My voice is only a rasp, and I clear it so I can speak louder, at a normal tone. "It's okay, Riku. I mean—until Roxas said you didn't have sex, I'd assumed you had. I just didn't want to know about it."

 

"No, I shouldn't have—"

 

"Stop!" I say. I surprise both of us with how loud it is. I hold up a hand. "I can't keep arguing about this forever. I'm tired. I don't want to think about it anymore." I don't have any more time to waste on it. "Okay? So just… stop… I forgive you. I still forgive you."

 

"Sora…"

 

" _No_." I walk over to my suitcase to get a fresh change of clothes. "Tell Mom I'll be right down."

 

"But I—"

 

"Riku, do you want to be together or not?" I throw my clothes down on my bed, suddenly livid. Why the hell does he keep doing this to me? I feel like we're constantly on a see saw, and I've had enough of it! "Tell me now, or stop driving me crazy!"

 

"I'm driving _you_ crazy?" Riku's eyes blaze as he straightens to his full height, rigid with defensiveness. "Sora, I can't tell what's going on with you half the time anymore! First, you shut me out for months, and now suddenly you want to be with me again! I can't keep my head straight around you! It's one thing, then it's another, and you won't tell me what's up!"

 

"Oh, but I suppose that's worse than going and fucking your twin brother!" I scream the words, incensed. My hand clings onto my towel so it won't drop. "Yeah, Riku, I'm _different_! Maybe I realized I screwed up, and I needed to make it up to you! Is that such a damn crime?"

 

"It's not a crime! I just can't figure out why you suddenly want me again!"

 

"I've wanted you this whole time! I just didn't realize how I was acting until now!"

 

"And you just realized this out of the blue! Really? C'mon, Sora, don't feed me crap like that—"

 

"No! I didn't just see it out of the blue!" I'm treading on dangerous ground. I know I have to walk carefully. But we're up in each other's faces, hollering at the top of our lungs, and it's hard to keep my head on straight. "Someone gave me a picture of you and Roxas together!"

 

He stumbles back a step, breathless. "What?"

 

"That's right, Riku." I'm not shouting anymore, but my voice still wavers. "You were seen."

 

"Who?" he demands immediately, closing in on me again. "Who saw us?"

 

"It doesn't _matter_!" I yell. "What matters is that it made me realize that I was pushing you away! Yeah, I was pissed at first, but I got over it! I just want to get over this!" Tears rise all at once, and I curse and turn away from him. "God, Riku, I said I forgive you. What's it going to take to get you to believe me?"

 

"No, Sora—Sora, don't cry…" Riku touches my arm. I draw away. "I just—I didn't understand, I thought…"

 

I sniffle and wipe my face. I've never cried so much in my life until four days ago. "I'm over it. I don't want to talk about it anymore. Not tonight." Not ever again.

 

He pulls me into him, and I don't resist. I rest my head on his chest and wish times were better. He soothes my hair and whispers apologies into my hair. I don't think this is over. He'll bring it up again later, or he plans to. But it's a dangerous road we walk, treacherous and waiting to lead us away from the right path. He has to proceed with caution. He can't bullhead his way through this like he does everything else.

 

"Change, and we'll go eat," he whispers. "Okay?"

 

I snuffle and nod. My throat hurts from all the yelling. I ache all over from the cold. My eyes feel swollen with crying. Things were going so good with Riku. I should have known it wouldn't last until I die. There's a lot of pain between us. It's not going to go away overnight. It'll lurk down, hide, and wait for a chance to spring forward. It won't go away. Only time can ease those sorts of wounds. It's time I don't have.

 

_Riku._

_I'm sorry._

He'll never get to put into words everything he wants to say to me, everything that needs to be said.

 

* * *

 

Mom looks awkward when we arrive in the kitchen. She's not the type to eavesdrop, so I'm sure she doesn't know what we were hollering about, but I know she heard the hollering nonetheless. No doubt everyone did. Roxas is already seated at the table, and Dad is clearing away a few ingredients that were used in the cooking.

 

It's steaks for tonight, with baked potatoes, green beans, and rolls. The scent of the meat hits my nostrils, and I realize how positively ravenous I am. I haven't eaten since lunch, and then that run through the neighborhood and accompanying woods… not to mention all the crying.

 

We bow our heads and say grace, and then we dig in. Throughout the meal, Mom chitters on about her day to the rest of us. Dad keeps the conversation flowing, and Roxas chips in from time to time. Riku and I are silent, eyes down, focused on our plates. He clears his away first, mine a short second. We sit there for the remainder of the meal while everyone else finishes, our gazes meeting only once and then darting away.

 

I don't know how to make this better. I don't know how to make the awkwardness go away. Realistically, I can't. It's a terrible feeling, to know that, to be so helpless. Axel's right. I pushed, and this is the end result.

 

Eventually, my gaze settles on Roxas. I will him to look at me. He doesn't. I have so many things to ask him—first and foremost, why he lied to me about sleeping with Riku. Was he trying to spare me? The truth would come out eventually… Maybe he was trying to cause trouble later between Riku and myself. I have no way of knowing. I have no way of knowing if he'll even tell me the truth when I confront him about it.

 

Everyone finishes eating, and we start to clear off the table. It's then that Mom suggests a board game for us to play.

 

"I can't," Roxas says quickly. "I was going to go out."

 

Mom blinks and sets the dirty dishes down in the sink. She turns on the faucet and drops her attention to getting them ready to place in the dishwasher. "Go out where? It's almost eight."

 

My heart jerks at the mention of that. It's almost eight. Four hours.

 

"Yeah, I know. I want to go and get a drink or something. It was a long week at work, and I still haven't managed to calm down from it yet." Roxas does jingles for infomercials. It pays him handsomely, though I suppose with the holiday season, he's been up to his ears in musical work.

 

"Oh. Well… you're not going by yourself, are you?" Mom looks over her shoulder at me. "Sora, you go with hi—"

 

"Can't," I say quickly, and I push away from the table. "My medicine." Mom reflects on that for a moment, nodding distractedly. Smoothly, I put my hand on Riku's shoulder and pat it. "Riku's going to go, though. There's been some pretty bad homicides at the department lately. He needs a few shots, too." I'm pulling that out of my ass, but it isn't too far of a stretch. Besides, neither boy is stupid enough to argue about the matter in front of my mother.

 

They exchange a glance, and then turn their attention on me. I grin disarmingly, ignore them, and go over to my mother.

 

"But I'll play a board game with you, Mom. How about Scattergories?"

 

I'm the best at it. No one knows words better in this household than I do.

 

* * *

 

I run upstairs to get the game. All of the board games are in my closet, on the top shelf, as I was the one who always wanted to play them most. That, and Mom's a packrat, so it's really the only place for them to go and not take up space elsewhere. Scattergories is on the very top, though, and I groan. _That's_ going to be a bitch to get down.

 

Riku steps up behind me, lifts up onto his tiptoes, and pulls it down easily. The contents of the box rattle, and I hear the timer start to tick. He hands me the box wordlessly, then pushes me gently aside so he can reach his clothes. I kill time by taking off the box lid to find the timer and turn it off, but even when I'm done with that, he's still not said a word to me.

 

"Don't be mad," I whisper. "I asked you to do this for me before we fought."

 

"I'll go," he says. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it, Sora."

 

Fair enough. I let the matter drop and head downstairs to deliver my parents the game. They've already got the kitchen table set up, I see as I make my way toward it—only to stifle a yelp as I'm suddenly violently pulled into another room. The world spins, and when it clears a second later, it's because Roxas has let me go and I can orient myself.

 

The darkness of the dining room cloaks us, and Roxas leans in to hiss at me. "I told you I don't want Riku to come with me."

 

"Well, too bad," I hiss back. "Maybe you should have thought better about lying to me, and karma wouldn't be biting you on the ass right now." Annoyed, I shove away from him. I make it to the doorway before he wrenches his hand in the back of my shirt and pulls me backward. I flail, the box almost sliding out of my hands.

 

"Tell him not to come—to feign illness or something, I don't care what it is. I don't want him to come."

 

Good freaking grief. I right myself, hold the box to my chest, and fling my foot out at his shins. He darts away, deeper into the shadows. "Knock it off, Roxas. It's Christmastime. Don't be Scrooge. The two of you can spend a few hours together and make it back in one piece."

 

"You don't get it, do you?" Roxas blows out a long, frustrated breath, and I watch as he fists his hair.

 

"I get it just fine. He used you for sex, you're still in love with him, we're back together now, and being with him is super painful. I get it." Roxas is silent, so I know I've surprised him. I take a few steps forward, until we're toe to toe. "Now imagine what it felt like for me to find out that my boyfriend was sleeping with my twin brother. Think on it hard… hold onto it…" I let the words hang for a moment, and then I lower my voice to a whisper. "Feeling guilty? Great. Enjoy your evening out."

 

Roxas snags a hold of my arm. He's gripping me so tightly that it pinches. I hiss in a breath between my teeth. "Sora, don't—"

 

" _No_ , Roxas." I disentangle myself from him as firmly as I can without doing him bodily injury. "You can do this for me."

 

"I'm not sorry for what I—"

 

I twist my fingers and thunk him on the forehead. He shuts up, clutching his head. "You are sorry. You hate every minute of it, because it's not what you thought it'd be. He used you. He used you again and again, and in the end, he still doesn't love you. You wouldn't have wasted your time if you had known that."

 

He sniffs, and I know I've gotten to him for the first time in four days, really gotten to him.

 

I touch his shoulder. "I don't know why you lied to me, but I forgive you, Roxas." I know what it's like to be so in love with Riku that you're blinded to everything else.

 

I step away again, and he doesn't stop me. Leaving him alone with his grief, I finish my trip to the kitchen. I have to squint against the light, since it's so bright in here. Much better than that gloomy dining room.

 

"You ready to play?" Mom asks me, pens already laid out on the table. We lost the pencils that came with the game a while ago.

 

"Yup." I pull out a chair and get settled in.

 

* * *

 

Riku and Roxas leave without stopping into the kitchen to say good-bye for the evening. Mom comments on the rudeness of that, and I don't say anything at all. It's nothing more than a mutter, anyway, so as not to distract us as the timer ticks. We've got words to think of, and with the letter J standing upright on the dice, we need all the brainpower we can get.

 

We go on to play a few more rounds, and then Dad announces it's time for them to get ready for bed. I glance at the clock and see that it's close to ten-thirty. I bite back a protest. I want to delay what's going to happen to me, but I can't. It's better that they're going to sleep. This way, I can leap off the balcony with no one to stop me.

 

I tell them to go on ahead, that I'll put the game back up. Mom kisses me goodnight, Dad claps me on the shoulder, and they both amble out of the kitchen. I stare after them, a lump in my throat. It's the last time I'll ever see them, and I close my eyes to sear the last couple of hours into my memory.

 

Mom, as she laughs as she makes up words and we both veto her. Dad, lips pursed in contemplation, pen moving furiously over his paper. The timer making both of them curse and look at each other and laugh. Mom's bright eyes as I surprise them with a good word. Dad's round where he gets only four answers filled in and Mom teases him constantly.

 

I open my eyes again, my lashes wet, and pile everything back into the box. A glance out the window reveals that snow is falling again. I think about how I'll be covered in a fine layer of it before I'm discovered. Like a candle being snuffed, my happiness evaporates, and I turn off the kitchen lights and head upstairs after my parents.

 

Light peers under the crack of their door. I pause outside of it, press my hand to the wood. I can hear their muffled voices from the inside as they get ready for bed. Smiling, I draw my fingers away and head back down the hallway to my room, which I passed on the way there.

 

I don't bother putting the box back up on the shelf. Screw that. I'm not tall enough. Someone else can do it later. I contemplate pulling open my laptop and surfing the Internet and then discard the idea. Why bother? I won't be able to concentrate, anyway.

 

I lay down on the bed and twist to face my alarm clock. It's 10:45. Nice. Mostly only an hour left to live my life. I find myself thinking about how I wish Riku wasn't mad at me, how he should have stepped into the kitchen to say good-bye. We could have kissed… hugged… something…

 

 _I love you,_ I think.

 

I'm expecting Axel to show up, and he never does. He's absent, and the silence and the darkness of the house swallow me. My eyes droop. I force them open, blinking rapidly. I can't afford to fall asleep. I can't miss it. I think about setting the alarm. No, that'll just make too much noise when it goes off. Not that it'd wake my parents. Still, I leave it alone.

 

The next hour oozes past. It's the longest one I've ever experienced. When I did this before, I hadn't timed it. I just went upstairs, looked down below, thought of how miserable my life was, and jumped with barely a second thought. Over, just like that. This time, it won't be so simple.

 

I marvel at how easily I threw all of this away. I was—am—such a weakling.

 

The clock says, finally, that it's midnight.

 

Easing in a breath, letting it out super slow, I roll off the bed and move over to the window. I don't hesitate. I unlatch the doors, push them open, swallow when frigid air blasts into my face. It's then, as I reach the balcony railing, that I hear the front door open and slam close again.

 

No—they're home already?

 

My heart pounding even harder now, I press myself up against the balcony, as close as I can get without going over it. The backyard is a long drop down, and I close my eyes against it as vertigo threatens to make me waver. I'll go headfirst, I think. That way, I risk more than a broken ankle or something. It's all about how you land, really.

 

"It's time, kiddo," Death whispers, and I find myself smiling. I knew he'd show up eventually. "We've got to go. You ready?"

 

I'll never be ready. I nod, anyway.

 

The staircase creaks. The wood is old, so even when you're trying to sneak up them, you can't manage completely. There's a thump, and a hiss to be quiet. "No, _you_ be quiet," Roxas says, more loudly.

 

It's time. I can't afford to linger anymore.

 

"Now!" Axel hisses.

 

Good-bye, Riku.

 

I love you.

 

I climb over the railing, and I'm over the side. Death's sweet embrace waits for me below.


	8. Epilogue

Except…

 

Where's the pain? My bones breaking? My head smashing into the ground? The cold of the snow seeping into me? Where is all of that? It's not coming, and I'm confused. It should have happened by now. It's not that long of a fall. Not really. At least, it wasn't last time…

 

That's when I hear it—Riku screaming my name at the top of his lungs.

 

It's then that other words start to penetrate the darkness, and I realize my eyes are still clenched shut. I open them to a wintry world. I'm dangling in the midst of it. Slowly, I look up. Riku is staring down at me, his bright, green eyes full of terror.

 

"Sora, you idiot!" he's ranting. "What were you thinking! What are you doing! Hang on, okay! I'm not letting you go!"

 

He's not… letting me… go…?

 

Another gust of wind shrieks past, cutting straight through my clothes. I shudder violently, my teeth chattering. My eyes are tearing up from the force of it, and I look at my arm. There, on my wrist, is Riku's hand. He's got a hold of me. He stopped me from falling, I realize.

 

"Sora!" Riku screams again. He sounds hoarse now. "Sora, grab onto me! Come on!"

 

No!

 

"No, Riku, let go of me!" I yell, surprising myself with the vehemence of it. "You have to let me go!" You have to let me die! If you don't—

 

Axel leans over the balcony, then, his eyes glowing. "It's okay, kid. Let him pull you up."

 

I stare at him, utterly confused. But—no… why? I have to die… He _said_ so… This isn't making any sense… does Death have a cruel sense of humor, crueler than even I imagined…? He has to be joking… he _has_ to be…

 

"You did your job. You leapt, and at the time you were supposed to. It's okay. You can't help it if someone interfered this time. You had no idea he was going to do that." Axel lifts a hand, waving it about as he speaks. Finally, he shakes his head and closes his eyes. "My job here is done. Spend your life wisely this time, okay?"

 

What…?

 

His words ring hollow in my ears. They're still not making any sense. I guess after the shadow of my death looming over me for the last four days, it's hard to believe that suddenly I've been given a free ticket. Part of me doesn't want to believe it.

 

Through it all, Riku is still screaming at me. Mom and Dad have appeared now, bleary-eyed and confused, and when they see what's happening, they yell and reach over to help Riku. Two extra pairs of hands grip onto my arm. The three of them start to pull. The snow swirls around us, clinging to our clothes and hair and lashes.

 

"Unless you want to die?" Axel arches his brows at me.

 

"No," I whisper.

 

I don't want to die. I don't. Not this time. Not now that I know things can be better.

 

"What'd I tell you, kid?" Death grins at me, his teeth still a startlingly pearly white. He takes a step away from the balcony, pulls his hood over his head, snaps his fingers. The pink scythe materializes in his hand a second later, and he places its butt on the ground. Sakura petals erupt in a flurry, spreading through the snow. "Good deeds are rewarded eventually."

 

The flowers pick up, obscuring my vision for a moment. When they clear again, Death is gone, almost as if he was never there. It's different this time. It holds a finality I'm thankful for.

 

Tearing up now from more than the wind, I fling my hand up. I miss a few times. Finally, though, I grasp onto the hands helping me, and in seconds, I'm back over the edge and collapsing atop Riku. Everyone is still yelling, calling my name, touching me. I simply stay there for several moments, in stark disbelief that I'm still alive.

 

The first real thought I have is: _great, now I'm going to be put on suicide watch._

The second is: _where's my brother?_

 

I look over Riku's shoulder as he hugs me fiercely, unwilling to let me go. I find Roxas sprawled on the floor in front of the window, his eyes wide, his face pale. When he sees I'm looking at him, tears rise to fill his eyes, and he picks himself up off the floor and stumbles over to me.

 

Then everyone's hugging me and sobbing in relief, and I can't see.

 

Okay, so there's still some things to work out. My relationship with Riku is going to take some work, not to mention my relationship with my brother. No one's probably going to let me out of their sight ever again for fear that I'll do something stupid like throw myself off a balcony. There's also probably some counseling in my future.

 

All in all, a fair trade for my life.

 

Riku puts his hands on my shoulders and pushes me back enough to look at me. His eyes are red, and his cheeks are glistening. "Sora, what were you _thinking_?" he croaks.

 

I manage a shaky grin that no doubt appalls him. It's all I've got. My story is a crazy one.

 

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."


End file.
